If I had you
by Rococo-theory
Summary: 1970s. A tortured artist and a nurse live in the art stricken Montmartre. They have nothing in common and know nothing of each other. A chance meeting leads to the attempt at a masterpiece, despite their tragic and vivid differences. AU. AH.
1. Nocturnes

_**Nocturnes.**_

The flair of _la bohème_ still possessed the air of Paris with its virtues of love, beauty, truth, following closely with desire, creativity and intermittent speculation. Also the pleasures of liquor. Among those who struggled with this carefree promise were Elena and Damon in the small and art polluted streets of Montmartre.

Damon found himself consumed by drink and love, his compulsive and furious manner had driven him to become a despicable being instead of the great and respectable artist he had once been. His paintings once seemed to blossom with each pair of eyes that were laid upon them but now his destructive manner turned away potential subjects, prospective buyers and even when trying to capture the beauty of still life, the objects themselves refused his brutal view. He sat dishevelled and broken in the corner of his small studio and consumed the last of the cheap whiskey he could find. Damon's only redemption seemed to rely on an unfounded love. A love for whom, he did not know. He simply assumed that with his powers of seduction it must come to him in one form or another and convince him that his existence was not meaningless. Until now his potential loves had only spent the night and rushed off in fear of his dismal look the very next morning.

Elena was a nurse. An entire existence surrendered due to low income, poor prospects and the wish to stand out. She had beautiful, long, untouched bitter chocolate hair and eyes of the same colour. Upon returning home to her habitation you would find a small, yet cosy apartment. There was not much there but a bed and books that served not only as faithful companions on lonely evenings, but also as her furniture. They had all been gained in the most curious of ways – some were a present, some she had found lying in the street and some she had stolen from previous undeserving owners, who had used these treasures to even out tables or hold open a door. The small studio contained one flower, a pale and powdery blue hyacinth which never withered and inspired in her the thoughts of an arriving spring on cold, dreary evenings when she was cocooned in bed under a blanket and was too frozen to move. Elena knew she did not have much talent, yet she desperately wished to contribute in some way to the ever expanding glory of the bohemian era. And so she wrote stories that held the promise of hope, glamour and love that she desired in her life.

Both their lives seemed entirely miserable. If reunited held the prospect of disaster and yet perhaps it was destiny they should meet.

* * *

><p>Damon stood up and took slow and cautious steps toward the easel. His mind nudged him to whip up something he could sell to get a hold of liquor, but his heart screamed in exasperation not to waste his talent on a deplorable piece. The sun coming from the window blinded him, it was still very early in the morning and these times he wished he did not live in the roof. His back still ached from sleeping the night crunched upon the cold wood floor in the small corner and his eyes were bloodshot red. Where was a muse when you needed one? Damon was capable of being sober he just did not enjoy it very much. He was never the one to stay clear minded amongst his friends and he preferred it that way. His eyes turned to the rooftops of Paris. The beauty of this view had been his glimmer of creativity for a long while, but now it inspired nothing in him, for he had abused its beauty for far too long. Damon grabbed his black dusty coat and scarf, which had wool streaking out each knit and went for the door in the hope of finding a subject outside his modest studio. A bird would even do.<p>

Elena woke with a start. Once again a terrorizing dream had petrified her and once again it had been about her wandering through the streets of Paris realizing she was all alone. Elena boiled some water and produced a small cup of coffee, which tasted abysmal, but had a very reminiscent taste to it. She dressed casually, for she did not have work that day. Despite it being early spring she wished to stay outside and write. Elena put on some blush, to make her appearance healthier as she looked quite pale, even with her olive undertone, because she rarely stepped out into the sun and after such a long winter it was not even surprising. She took her scratched and grotty notebook and was out the door.

Elena locked the door and turned to leave down the winding staircase, when she was stopped by a look. Opposite her stood Damon. His arctic blue eyes looked petrifying and seducing, his chin and cheeks were rugged as he had not shaved in a while yet his prominent cheekbones stood out above all. He stood by his door and had apparently also been on his way, but Elena had interrupted him with her presence. She had never met him despite being neighbours, but she knew that he was of despicable character, for outside his door could always be found either a bottle of the crummiest whiskey one could find or a garish girl.

"Hello," Elena smiled as forthcoming as she could, yet it must have sounded false.

Damon turned from her and descended down the stairs, leaving Elena rather stunned. Even though she had not been impressed by his character after years of hearing decadent and unpuritanic noises from his studio, this was a breach of common courtesy. Feeling quite awkward and insulted she then left herself, hoping she would not encounter him again.

* * *

><p>Elena sat in her petite studio and listened to the harsh and imbecile words of her sister. She held a glass of red wine in her hand, whilst Katherine had the entire bottle. Her sister, similar to her in looks, had a much more intricate and vivacious existence. She was the lover of many people, many people who possessed money and influence and she could charm anyone into her webs. A skill which Elena had not been granted. Katherine visited Elena once in a while, when she required to get rid of the burden which troubled her mind, so Elena was compelled to sit and listen to anything and everything she said, even if the words were not pleasant to hear. Katherine wore a black silk dress, taken in at the waist to accent her waspy figure and had little trails of lace going along it as a provocative measure.<p>

"Elena, souris, you really must find someone of means and stop living in this disaster of an apartment," Elena looked at her and smiled with a slight nod. She of course had no intention to do such a thing, but it was best to agree rather than argue for hours, knowing Katherine's hot temperament.

"Anyway, I must be leaving now. I have a very promising evening ahead of me. Be safe and really for once consider your future," Katherine's eyes shot around her with a pitiful look.

Elena escorted Katherine to the door and as she opened it there stood Damon. He seemed to be returning from somewhere as he was in the process of opening his door. Katherine's eyes took on a fiery passion. As Damon noticed her Elena could see his smug smile grow wider and more vicious in a naughty manner.

"And who is this? Elena, you did not tell me you lived amongst such attractive people!"

"I must admit, I did not know there was a doll like you here. I'm Damon," Damon smiled even more seductively.

Elena pinched Katherine. She wished to warn her that Damon was probably the worst decision one could make in terms of men, but in his presence she hardly desired to mention that. Elena regarded the two as they seemed to be exchanging thoughts for neither spoke a word. In a second Katherine kissed her cold rosy cheek with a smile;

"I am leaving, all right darling? Take care and bye," And scurried Elena inside the apartment. Elena stood at the door mesmerised. She disrobed and put on her cream coloured pyjamas and went to put on some water to boil. She prepared a cup of grey tea and climbed into bed with a last look at the disappearing sunset over the withered rooftops of the Montmartre. Taking her chanced upon copy of Vonnegut's _Slaughterhouse-Five _Elena devoted herself to reading, whilst gently running her fingers through her hair and once in a while taking a sip of her tea. However, she was then disturbed by loud voices from her neighbor's apartment. It was he who was speaking, but he was not alone. Katherine was there. What followed after Elena regretted deeply she had to hear due to the lack of wall space between the two apartments. She tried many ways to insulate the sound and ended with sleeping with her pillow on top of her head.

* * *

><p>Early next morning as Elena awoke once again with a start, she immediately noticed the grey clouds of the outside and the rain drizzling against her window. The only light that was emitted was the miniscule golden rays of the small lamp that was carefully placed on the wobbly construction of a night table entirely from books. Then Elena was startled by a loud knock at her door. With a very cautious and frightened step she approached the door and looked out of the peep hole. There stood the perturbed man, who looked more enraged than ever. As he knocked again Elena drew in a breath and opened, assessing that she was still in her pyjamas.<p>

"Good morning,"

"Are you deaf? I knocked more than ten times,"

"I was sleeping. It's six in the morning after all," Damon rolled his eyes exuberantly.

"Is your friend here?"

"Sister. And no she's not,"

"Can you give me her number?"

"No, I shouldn't. If she didn't leave you her number it probably means she does not plan on seeing you anytime soon or quite possibly ever again," Damon looked positively furious. He went inside the apartment leaving Elena completely stunned.

"Why are you so irritating? Can't you understand that I have finally found my muse? She spoke to me like no other had ever done and I felt something. A spark that inspired me. I even want to paint, but I need to paint her,"

"Well, she won't be coming here soon. She only visits me once in two months. And can I just say that it is inappropriate of you to be here. I don't even know you and what I do know is not very encouraging, so please leave," Elena pointed to the door, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor in order to avoid the absent yet angry looks of Damon. Damon walked slowly to the door, where she stood, but instead of going out, he looked at Elena. The petite figure before him was on the verge of shivering from both cold and the uncomfortable sense of the situation. He placed his hand under her chin and raised her head with clear resistance so their eyes met. Elena stroke his arm away.

"You have her looks you know. You might be even more beautiful than her, but you do not have any character. For a painting I do not need character. Come to my apartment in ten minutes and be ready to sit there for a while,"

"I won't let you paint me," Damon's blue eyes appeared revoltingly angry yet charming.

"Yes, you will," And he left. Without another word.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later a reluctant Elena arrived at the door of Damon's apartment. The door was slightly ajar and she could hear the sound of an old jazz record, possibly Nat King Cole, playing softly. As she entered she saw Damon sitting on the window sill. He was smoking and thin and quite miserable cigarette. Elena had always found smoking unattractive, but now in this instant it seemed appropriate.<p>

"I came here on one condition," Elena spoke in a rather trembling voice.

"What makes you think I would accept any conditions?" Damon laughed quietly.

Elena continued persistently. "This is the first and last time I will pose and you will leave my sister be. She obviously does not want you as much as you want her and there is no reason why you should intrude upon her life, and come to that _mine,_"

"That sounds like two conditions and neither of them are appealing at all,"

"Promise me,"

"No. Not until the painting is done. Then perhaps. If I will be in the mood," Damon left Elena entirely unsatisfied.

"Now, this painting has to be a portrait, but one of the most sensual and possessing kind. It has to haunt people with its beauty, its natural power. It has to be full of mystery and depth, also fire and desire, to make people envious of the painter who has beheld such a remarkable scene," Elena seemed rather lost, by all the very different extremes he was throwing at her, "Are you listening? Because I can paint you, but there has to be something there and now in real life I see nothing. You are too constricted, too quiet, too passive. It does present some mystery, but on the whole it just appears as if you were boring,"

"Thank you for the mindful compliments," Elena muttered being entirely insulted by these remarks. Yes, she was quiet, but she did not consider herself boring or passive. She longed for adventure and possibilities, but she was simply not in a position to provide them for herself.

"An artist has to express his view, otherwise you would not comprehend my vision,"

"I think I now see why you do not have many clients. They simply can't stand you,"

"Sit," Damon guided her towards the chair by the window. It was an old armchair in a cream colour with royal blue stripes all along it. It was an old beauty and seemed to be the only preserved and truly magnificent piece in this terrifying small room. Now as they had been talking the sun had come up and from the window it shone all along the rooftops and made the outside glisten with grey and gold and amber and the inside looked nostalgically sensual.

"Now, what to do with you," Damon wondered holding his chin upon his hand, and perceptively observing the girl before him, "Bring your hair forward," There was a moment of silence after she did, "You look horribly bland," Damon went over to his matrass where a pile of clothes lay messily. He chose and article which Elena saw to be a silk robe. Why he had it she had no clue, but as he approached her and gave her the item, she assumed he wished for her to put it on.

"I want you to turn away,"

Damon's eyes expressed growing anger, "You cannot be serious. Don't even try to convince me you are not every bit as stiff as you appear to be," Damon turned away and Elena quickly changed, yet still felt incredibly uncomfortable being so exposed with a perfect stranger. Damon took a step back and observed the setting for a moment. Elena sat there unmoving and tried to avoid his eyes as much as she could.

"Still it has no life. It has no potential to spur envy in people," Damon's blue eyes once again passed over the girl. Then he went up to her and positioned her body sideways, making the worried Elena even more ill at ease. What made her jump was when Damon's hand slid off part of the robe on the side facing him. His gentle and soft touch made her body form goose bumps and in astonishment she blurted out;

"What are you doing?"

"It's not like you're naked! I need something. Something more. You sitting here hard as stone is not going to give me any emotion. There needs to be a softness and an inviting ambiance to this and your incredibly constricted attitude is denying me that," Elena left the robe as he had arranged it and sat still. Wishing for this moment to end. Damon looked at her thankfully and quietly admired the look of her lingerie.

Damon worked rapidly. He was most certainly inspired. He saw potential in this painting, and potential was something he had not seen for years. All this time he yearned for another night with Katherine and that filled his thoughts as he painted the girl before him. Now he was sure she was definitely more beautiful than Katherine, but it still did not entice him as much. Although at certain moments he wondered what it would be like to kiss her and have her be devoted to him. To have her fragile body upon the worn mattress and take her entirely. At these moments he stopped painting.

After four hours of posing and not saying a word Damon let her go. He was still not convinced at this paintings success, yet felt it did have promise. As Elena was about to walk out the door, he took her arm and with his usual tone of command said;

"Let's go to a café tonight. I need to see more from you," Elena wished to protest, but he closed the door on her. What he had meant by tonight left Elena wondering and she knew that from six o'clock she should probably remain at home waiting for him to come. Why she felt obliged to go with him somewhere was beyond her, but perhaps it had to do with the notion that now she felt a part of the painting herself and wished it to be a success and would go to any measures to achieve it.

* * *

><p>As the clock struck eight Damon knocked loudly at her door. Elena was dressed in a rather modest dark indigo dress, which accentuated her figure, but was rather plain and did not reveal much, so all was left to the imagination. Despite that she looked lovely and her beautiful and delicate face brought her look to life. Upon seeing her Damon showed no emotion. He let her lock the door and then taking her arm, they descended the stairs and were out in the fresh air only moments later. The night seemed cold and Elena felt she needed more than just her plain trench coat, but the truth was except for the really bulky and layered winter coat, she had nothing else. It was a minimalistic life she lived and, despite acknowledging that her sister's way of achieving means was rather despicable, she was glad that at least Katherine was able to live a glamorous and happy life. They reached the Botak café and settled there comfortably. Elena drank a glass of red wine and Damon settled for very black coffee.<p>

"I don't know your name,"

"You never asked,"

"I don't want to know it. It would be a distraction. It would transform the painting and you to real life and then I would find it repulsive. It is bad enough we are neighbours,"

"I really do hate you sometimes. You are so conceited. You think of no one but yourself, so once the painting is done I won't be obliged to be in your company anymore," Elena downed her wine furiously and found Damon stare at her with a grin.

"That was a spark of real emotion. You should show that more often, darling. You might actually attract someone," Damon looked at her intently. The calm pink lips, the doe like black eyes, the long silky hair attracted him in some way. Perhaps he idealized her, perhaps he was just ready to sleep with any woman who was of some appeal to him, but he wanted her. He could look at her for not a second more without taking her for himself. Damon placed his hand on her thigh and was immediately slapped.

"You already allow yourself too much,"

"I know you want a man to caress you, and kiss you all along your soft skin. To run his fingers through your hair and to touch you down there," Damon's hand once again rested upon her thigh. But instead of a response she stood up and without saying a word left.

It was disturbing for both of them. They seemed stranded together without any means of escape and it appeared as if they both had to endure this struggle for a while longer. Until the painting was done.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Note**__Hello, darlings! I am still here and I feel very inspired. I find myself quite mesmerized by this story and feel absolutely overpowered with writing it now. It is quite harsh and compared to my other stories of glamor and luxury it is most certainly on the other end of the spectrum, but I feel there is so much intricate detailing one could do with this and not with the others that that is the reason behind my sudden burst of creativity. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to more! _

_Please be so kind as to review!_

_Yours excitedly,_

_Martina._


	2. Man of simple pleasures

_**Man of simple pleasures.**_

The room was dark and dreary, as if prepared for some impending calamity. The electricity had gone yet again. Elena arranged the fallen books into a neat pile and placed two round and lit cream coloured candles on it. She then attempted to undress but there was a loud banging at the door. It creaked lightly alerting the presence of a vicious character. Elena cautiously and carefully approached and opened the door still in her stunning attire; only the dress remained unzipped at the back, for the arrival had been unexpected. There in the pathway between their two meagre apartments stood Damon.

"Come on," He said in his low voice that was once again a command rather than an invitation. Without a response he took Elena by her elbow and led her into the small corridor. Damon suddenly stopped her; his hands on her waist from her back. Elena wished to turn and slap him, yet his take on her was too tight and incapable of movement. He then zipped her dress up gently, nearly caressing her skin through the cheap fabric and then placed his hands on her shoulders to lead her to his apartment once more. The bewildered state Elena was in could hardly be described in words.

They sat in silence as the thin light of candles illuminated nothing but their faces and the cheap whiskey in their hands. Elena detested the stingy taste and the repellent aroma of the inexpensive round-the-corner liquor. Damon's eyes rested on Elena; his gaze was hollow and wild behind the black eyes that shone in the dark. There was no hint of the striking blue; he seemed dead and lifeless. He swallowed the last of his drink in a gulp and then stood up determinably. Elena felt uncomfortable; only moments before she had made an attempt to stand for herself and show him his despicable nature and now sitting in his apartment she seemed to have no will at all.

Damon went over to Elena and sat down in front of her looking at her intently. Elena once again felt as an object; nothing but a mere subject for a painting. Her eyes darted around the room, so unbearably confusing was this silence and staring.

"You are quite extraordinary," Damon began, his voice low and almost contemptuous knowing he knew nothing about her. His hand caught her face and he seemed to anticipate her gaze meet his. Finally Elena's eyes found him, tearful from the constant and incessant changing of directions. Damon was close to her, so close she could hear his hollow breathing. "Your eyes say nothing. They are so deep and mysterious; I can't quite know whether you find me repulsive or irresistible," His finger passed over her rosy lips. "If I would kiss you, would you despise me?"

"Yes," Elena breathed in a whisper. The tension was immediately cut and she raised herself from the chair, avoiding Damon's body in front of her. She hurried out of the apartment and heard from afar; "Be here tomorrow at seven," Shutting the door she breathed deeply and did not know what to do with herself. The suspense before the near kiss had been unbearable, but now they would have to endure that twice as deceitful and terrifying suspense after it.

* * *

><p>At precisely seven in the morning Elena knocked on Damon's door. He opened without even so much as giving her a glance or bidding good morning. She was already in her attire and sat down in front of the window as he had instructed just yesterday. It was rather chilly, yet there was the same beautiful light creeping in through the window behind her, which made a charming impression and left Elena willing to suffer through all to capture this moment. Still she felt slightly uncomfortable revealing her bare skin and lingerie before him, but overcame her prudish ways in fear of Damon's overtly temperamental attitude. He turned to her, quite clearly hung over, and stood in front of the painting. He stared for a moment into the sketched world of his masterpiece and shook his head in disagreement.<p>

"No," Elena awaited the continuing of his sentence in anxiousness, "I can't paint today. I have no inspiration. Leave me," Damon went over to his lonely mattress and fell upon it in complete despair. Elena, feeling in some way guilty for his lack of creativity, went over to him to see if he was alright. Damon lay upon the dusky white sheets and held his hand over his eyes. His lack of inspiration was most certainly the product of too much whiskey and too little sleep, but she did not dare mention it, for feared it would result in an even more terrible outcome. Quickly she decided to sneak away, if he had no need of her, she was not obligated to remain there after all, but just as she was on her way his voice stopped her. It was soothing and quite gentle for his despair and sadness had overcome him.

"Wait. Stay. Here, beside me," He whispered without looking at her and Elena felt her heart ache. She knew she could never leave him like this, so she went over to the mattress and sat upon it. She placed her hand lightly over his, fearful of the invasion of his artistic privacy, yet he clung to her tightly and in a mere moment was asleep. Elena looked about her and then gently and softly descended upon the mattress herself, soon lulled into a deep sleep right next to him.

Abrasive wind awoke her. The room looked icy, the air had a slight tint of fog to it, the window was open. Charcoal clouds obscured the sunshine and it looked to be about midday. Beside the window stood Damon and held a cigarette in his hand. He had not smoked it, for there was ash upon the windowsill just below where his hand was. The cigarette burned delightfully slow and allowed time for contemplation. Damon looked at her suddenly and with great confusion.

"Good, you're awake. I want you to sit down. I can paint now,"

"There's no light, no sun,"

"I shall improvise then," There was bitterness in his voice and Elena obeyed. Although doing so rather unwillingly and proudly. She sat and felt herself shiver and tremble, for even though he had shut the window, the air was still frightfully cold.

"I'm cold,"

"You will have to wait and suffer. People usually have to, for art that is,"

Elena was growing furiously angry with his overtly pompous character. The notion that he believed himself to be the greatest artist was irritating her beyond measure. She despised him because he didn't know; he did not know how it was to really suffer because of lack of means or lack of education, or lack of respect, lack of comfort. Everything in his life had been given to him, but, he like the fool he was, had thrown it away on drink and women. He had luck unlike she, but he spat in its face. She knew him, she had seen his name before amongst the names of many of the celebrated artists in Paris that moment and now she saw the pathetic yet arrogant persona before her and could not help but wonder how it was even possible to lose everything through one's own fault.

When it began to become dark, as the sun set behind the great grey clouds, Damon stopped his artistic motion and regarded his work. It was immediately kept secret as he put it aside to one corner of his humble abode. He took the great greyish blanket that lay messily on his mattress, still with the imprints of two bodies, and carried it over to Elena, placing it around her shoulders and tucking her in warmly.

"Thank you," He said softly, his blue eyes looking straight into hers. So clear as she could see her own reflection. Yet Elena was not at all relieved or appreciative of this gesture. She was beyond furious, she was closer to wild; her skin was frozen, her breath was slow and short, her eyes fell closed moment to moment as she fought with sleep and she endured all this just for the sake of the painting that she had not even seen. Damon stood in front of her still, his hands held her arms as if to appreciate the coming warmth that the blanket provided. Elena concluded that he really could not read her as he seemed to think she was pleased rather than in the state of red anger she actually was.

"I'm going home,"

"Don't you want to have a drink first? It will help you warm up,"

"No. Some of us have to go to work tomorrow,"

"But I need to paint you tomorrow. You will simply have to call in sick,"

"No," Elena stood up, but was overwhelmed by Damon's closeness.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a nurse,"

"There it is. That just proves that you can drop your work and let me paint you,"

"You arrogant, inferior bastard," Elena said, dropping the blanket furiously on the floor in a pile and arranging the silk robe, closely hiding her skin.

"Don't be like this. I was just saying that one has to sacrifice things for art,"

"Like you have sacrificed things? Family, work, happiness?" Elena shook her head in disagreement and disbelief, "I refuse to be like you. I refuse to become meaningless and weak. I can come and sit here for you to paint me, but not make it my entire life. I will come back when I can, until then you can rot in this empty hole of yours,"

With that their conversation was over and Elena was out the door and into her apartment, where she shut the door and felt even more uneasy than before. She put on warm pyjamas, made a cup of tea and climbed into bed, where she shut her eyes and dreamed of warmth. Then let her imagination run wild, coming to the inevitable fantasy which she found herself returning to year by year, day by day. She, an accomplished writer who lives somewhere near the Champs, most certainly on the right bank, would have a perfectly charming lover, who would appreciate her love for literature, her love for the most smallest of things; the sun, the streets, the rooftops. He would take her in his arms and kiss her lips tenderly, yet lustfully and impatiently and whisper into her ear; _"You're the only girl I've seen for a very long time that actually did look like something blooming," _Fitzgerald's words have always had an impact on her and she thought them absolutely beautiful.

Now there was only the sound of an impatient knock at her door. Unwilling and tired she went to open it and without a fight returned to her bed, without even glancing at Damon. Under the covers, she stared at him, expecting something from his broken body, his blank eyes, but receiving no words she spoke out of turn;

"Do you want some tea?" Damon nodded. As Elena was forced to get up and prepare him a cup, Damon stood examining the room. He found it perfect and charming. The smell of books filled it with a pleasant air of warmth, which he felt in Elena's heart, the minimalistic appearance; the stacked books, the small counter where a lonely kettle and refrigerator stood, upon which were boxes of different teas, the two lonely candles, the bed, the neatly arranged clothes in the wobbly cupboard, it was all so beautifully accidental that Damon finally appreciated some aspect of Elena's personality. He was not used to coziness or warmth, yet he enjoyed it immensely. His own apartment lacked a woman's touch; it was filthy, smelt of liquor and had an ambiance of sex about the dreary, stale air.

"Here you are," Elena handed him the cup and sat down upon the bed. He sat down beside her, still quite bewildered as to why he had even come over. It was clear they did not like each other. Why was it that now more than ever he wished to be in her company was very unclear. He regarded Elena; her hair was let out and quite messy, her pajamas were of a dusky rose colour and her black eyes seemed like two precious onyxes.

"I came over for company. It was quite unbearable there,"

"I think it's your own fault. You make the atmosphere so terrible in that apartment through your own actions. As to your motives, God only knows what they are,"

"I suppose the more depressing the atmosphere, the more creative I become. It's a matter of expressing oneself and I tend to express myself better when I am sad or angry,"

"But can one really live his entire life like that? Base his existence upon depression and acts of fury?"

"We'll see," Damon said with a smile.

They sat silent once more, but this time they were comfortable. The glow of the candles, the light steam rising from their cups, the warmth they were emitting next to each other it all seemed to fit in perfectly with the situation and so they did not have to fill the silence with words of meaningless value.

"I think about you, you know," Elena felt stunned. Damon simply continued, staring out of the window, "I am trying to understand you, but I can't. I think that that is the reason behind why I am going mad,"

"If you only inquired about me, you would ease your suffering,"

"You could not tell me anything. A person can never reveal their own character. It is entirely impossible. I only know that you are a vision of true beauty," Elena turned away to hide her scarlet cheeks, "But that means nothing. It only inspires me,"

"One can interpret one's self through accounts given by others,"

"I don't want that. To finish the painting, I need to reveal you,"

"I can't imagine you ever will," Elena sipped the last of her tea and stood up, so did Damon. With a surge of sudden lust and desire he took Elena in his arms and gripped her tightly. She said nothing, which confused him. He expected her to react aggressively. Even now she hid behind something; even now she was a mystery. Damon drew her close and placed his lips upon hers, feeling the sting of fresh peppermint. Damon pulled her close until there was no space between them and felt the curves of her body. Elena finally broke off and turned away from him, facing the window.

"Can you go now?" Damon's heart sank. He did not expect this. "I'm so terribly tired,"

With a certain hopefulness Damon regained his composure and left slowly. It was new to him, this spark of optimism in him. He was still assured that he did not desire her, that it was all an impulsive need, but she made her feel something. For better or for worse, it was intriguing to finally feel something that was in the range of positive emotions.

* * *

><p>It was a Saturday. Elena had not gone to Damon's apartment for the whole of the week. Still early in the morning, around five, Elena prepared for herself a cup of strong black coffee, preparing for the long sit, and ate some scrambled eggs. Now, ready for the fatiguing day ahead she crossed to his apartment, where she knocked loudly at the door. Damon opened it with what appeared to be a hopeful smile, which gradually disappeared.<p>

"I am so glad you've come," Damon hurried into his apartment and closed the open window, "This long pause in my work has inspired me even more greatly. Today is looking to be very productive. Shall we?"

And so he painted. They never talked, so Elena was forced to go over the same thoughts in her head over the long course of time she spent in the exquisite armchair. It gave her time to plot her stories. She had not written that many yet, for she had the bad habit of leaving things unfinished. It seemed to her simpler than to configure an ending which might not be impressive enough, for what she hoped to achieve. And so they reached midday. Damon looked at his work and smiled lightly.

"Time for lunch," He instructed Elena to go and dress herself, for he would take her out.

They strolled through the streets looking for a simple, yet admirable place to eat. Everywhere seemed full; the swarms of working men, intellectual artistic clubs and chatting old maids had gathered everywhere and left Damon and Elena no choice but to explore the right bank. They walked along the Louvre. Elena was mesmerized by the glory and splendor while Damon rather preferred to observe the sky. They came to a small brasserie a few streets down, which was not too empty or too full and settled there. They each had a hearty meal to satisfy their hunger.

Over their coffee, Damon began to ponder.

"Have you ever been involved with someone?" He shot her an inappropriate glance.

"Of course I have. Only he was not what I expected him to be,"

"I haven't," Elena looked disbelieving. "I have only had one night stand's. Only sexual relationships to satisfy my appetite, but beyond that I have never endured such a virtue as love or romance, or even friendship in a relationship. It's too complicated,"

"You won't know it till you have tried it. It is rather a simple expression, but it is true. Perhaps you might enjoy a relationship, only with someone you have not met yet," Elena drank her coffee, "The person really does matter. It cannot be just anybody,"

"Art is much simpler than people. You can interpret it any way you want. You can do anything with it. And it will always support you. While others may not approve your achievements, your product, if you are content with it, that is all that matters,"

"But what is the pleasure of seeing others besmirch your work? Would you not rather try to meet the demands and likes of the general society?"

"You really are too proper. Why can't you let loose?"

"You know nothing about me and you even admitted it yourself, so spare me the hypocrisy,"

They were once again found in silence and Elena thought that from an outside observer they probably looked like a couple who were having a fight.

By the time they arrived at the apartment, rain had started to pour down. Elena invited Damon to her room as she herself did not wish to remain in his dark abode. They once again enjoyed tea and Damon examined the contents of her place more closely and with a keener eye, leaving Elena quite good humored because she understood he was searching for clues to her character. Damon gave up and fell upon her bed; he clearly had no reservations or inhibitions.

"Come here," He said as he caught Elena's arm. He dragged her upon the bed and they lay facing each other. Strangely neither of them felt uncomfortable, but rather familiar with the situation.

"Could you ever love someone like me?" He said gravely.

"I suppose. If you always pretended to be someone else,"

"That is a no then. I know I have not been kind, but that is simply not in my nature. I abhor kindness because I associate it with pity. I don't pity you. I admire you,"

"That is quite a strange philosophy, but I can comprehend it. I admire you, in a way,"

"I hope you're not serious,"

"I admire your dedication to art, as irritating as your arrogance might be at times, but you are truly mind, heart and soul belonging to art and if I were like you I would quite possibly be a writer now,"

Damon remained silent, bidding her to go on.

"I write and yet I am so unsure of myself that I have never really written anything. I have not even thought of going to a publisher. I wish I were more creative, more inspired, had a greater flair for the bohemian existence which so clearly is your forte,"

"Perhaps we are more alike than we both imagined," Damon whispered and stroked a lock of chocolate hair away from her features.

"I think its best you go now," Damon sighed and with great inner strength managed to leave.

Elena sat in her bed and ran her fingers through her hair. It was slightly curled from the touch of water, from the pouring rain. As she raised herself and decided to undress, there was an unsure idea in her mind. She rushed to Damon's apartment. Upon opening the door she found Damon looking terribly content, as content as he could look under his furrowed brow.

"Let's go to the movies," Damon regarded her with uncertainty, "What can we both do anyway? It would at least be more entertaining than going to sleep at five in the afternoon,"

"Fine," Damon said with a hint of a smile, which mirrored in Elena's face. He grabbed his coat and they left immediately. They fought the rain as it poured down heavily upon them and drowned their clothes in water. But when they reached the theater they looked healthy; glowing and rosy and they were glad to be in each other's company rather than suffering the loneliness of their usual nights.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Note **Hello, peeps! I am truly sorry for the long intervals between updates, I'm trying the best I can, but fatigue and lack of inspiration at a given moment are troubling obstacles. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please be so kind as to review!_

_Yours excitedly,_

_Martina._


	3. Spring snow

_**Spring snow.**_

Elena stood by the window, her dark silhouette appearing sleek yet meagre against the background. The full moon was in the distance and as she sipped her lukewarm tea and held the book open in her hand, slightly crunching the pages, she wished she were not alone in this small little room. The lonely hyacinth was in full bloom; the calm little alice blue petals carving themselves into miniscule flowers. Elena found it charming. It was rather chilly, so she returned to bed. The following day held a particular promise; she would have to go to Damon's again. Their admiration for art, thankfully they had similar tastes, had led to a rather compromising yet promising and fortunate relationship in which, without either of them knowing it, they had both regained hope and had more of a spark within them. Elena turned on the little light, the electricity was finally fixed, and turned to her book with a smile.

It was around two in the morning when there was a knock upon her door. Elena climbed out of her warm bed, with her feathery duvet around her petite body and slowly approached the door, wishing to avoid any walls due to her lack of vision. As she opened the door there stood Damon, dressed in his worn yet charming black coat, his streaked scarf wrapped thrice around his neck and his eyes glistening with delight.

"Shall we?" He stretched out his elbow and looked at the half asleep Elena hopefully.

"It's so early. Or late. Why must you torture me even when you don't need me for your painting?"

"Because I feel this night might inspire me and I am always open for more creativity. There's a beautiful full moon outside and the streets are empty of the bourgeoisie, so get dressed or stay as you are and come,"

Elena grumpily threw off the blanket, which she so desired to be engulfed in and put on her coat over her pyjamas. She had no doubt she looked terrible, but it did not matter much as there really would be nobody to see her. Except for him.

Damon on the other hand believed she looked beautiful. The natural light of her honey ivory skin glistened in the light moonlight, her hair looked slightly curled yet dishevelled, which gave it a romantic softness and finally her eyes told him something. Or perhaps they didn't and it was simply the moon reflected in the two large black onyxes. He had awaited all evening to take her on this walk. It had eaten him up from inside, to demand of her such kindness toward him. He felt embarrassed, humiliated, yet this was replaced more strongly with the sentiment of delight, when she had gone to put on her coat and an utter melting of his heart when she returned and smiled at him as only she could. Naturally and from the bottom of her heart. Damon gave her his arm and they left the broken, breaking and soon to collapse building to explore the moonlight lit streets of Paris, the old city which seemed to turn every possible relationship into a romantic one.

The streets were quiet. Not a soul to be seen. They slowly promenaded towards the right bank. The Seine waved lightly in the spring night wind. But their surroundings did not matter much. The splendour and magnificence of this night had been used as an excuse for their encounter.

"It's funny to think that we are so different yet manage to communicate quite well,"

"I am still wondering whether we really are so very distinct,"

"You lack the tragic element of my existence. The furrowed brow and brooding stare only comes with an unfulfilled love. You are too innocent, too naïve to know how that feels,"

"Don't you dare presume something like that about me. You don't even know me. I have suffered but unlike you I have not let it get the better of me,"

"I'm intrigued. Perhaps we should share our tragedies and exploit them for the promise of peace of mind,"

"I have nothing to tell. It truly was unfulfilled. I loved, but he didn't love back. He hardly even acknowledged my existence. It was still back in school, the later years. Nothing had ever happened and when one day I realized nothing ever will I cried, but that was it. I cried and cried, but as time passed so did my feelings and now he still remains as someone close to my heart in my memory, but I would never say that I love him,"

"My biggest misfortune was my encounter with a tease. She loved everyone and I, the young fool I was, believed she loved only me. I doubt she realized what I truly felt about her and if she did she disregarded it completely. In the end she settled with my dear own brother and while I was still in contact with him every time we would meet I would have to see the two of them together. The intimacy that I wished to have with her, they had in all its entirety. She is truly wonderful; intelligent, artistic, we used to spend hours talking of nothing but paintings and what they meant to us, but her character tore me apart and led me to this miserable life. I drink, I paint, I smoke, I sleep with women, but all of this for what reason?"

"That is what we all need in life; to find a purpose, without it we are lost, without it we lose hope. It does not have to be anything dramatic, but something that you hold close to your heart," Elena said with compassion, knowing she herself had once felt as miserable and befuddled as he, "I want to become a writer. That is what keeps me alive. I write stories of my fantasies and they inspire me to bring these things to life. You strive for something,"

"I've always said to myself that what would inspire me most would be love. I live by the old bohemian code; I tell the truth, I try to achieve beauty, but I cannot fall in love. And it kills me,"

"Love cannot be forced upon oneself. Stop looking for it. It will come to you. And stop moping, that doesn't cure anything either,"

"Now all I have is this painting. And you. I consider you my friend, you know. Perhaps you don't agree to it, but I don't need your approval,"

"You really are a charming person. I am your friend. Through my own choice,"

The stubborn pair strolled through the Champs and found them delightfully quiet. They moved onwards, to where there were no people at all and as Damon felt Elena shiver gently next to him took her hands in his. His were pleasantly warm and hers ice cold. He repeated this throughout their walk, which lasted three hours. They returned home cold, but sparking with energy and joy as the walk had filled both of them with inspiration and the wish to achieve something, however little the achievement.

Elena awoke to bright sunshine. The smell of spring was in the air. She opened the window and paid no attention to the rather icy morning wind that crept in. She made herself a cup of tea and then drank it along with some chocolate galettes. Elena cleaned her apartment, if you could call it that. Rearranging the nearly fallen piles of books into neat, straight ones, brushing off dust off of all her surfaces, there were not many, and tidying up her miniscule kitchen area. Then she felt refreshed and as if she had accomplished something. The placed looked wonderful; cosy, chic, old yet soulful. Being already used to his nature Elena predicted that Damon would knock in a moment and so he did.

"Good morning," Elena opened with a heart-warming smile, which made Damon smile in turn.

"I want to show you something. It might make you feel better about yourself and I am usually not in the habit of making others happy," Elena regarded him queerly, but followed him to his apartment. Her eyes turned twice their size and her hands went to her heart in fear it might burst from utter delight as she saw the scene before her.

The window was open, letting in rosy sunshine and a breath of fresh air. The old and beautiful armchair still stood by the window. Everything else was different; there were long floor shelves in one corner of the room which were full of books, the floors were clean and had nothing thrown upon them. The mattress had clean sheets and the bed was made. They were purely white, though Elena pondered how long they would stay like that. The easel stood before the chair as usual, but had a small table next to it, which held all the colours, all the brushes, everything that used to be on the floor. Upon the window sill there were candles, upon the bookshelves there were candles, next to his bed there were candles. None were lit, but they inspired the cosiness just the same. This now looked like her small studio; just as inviting, just as romantically bohemian and in all its entirety resembled Damon. The hopeful Damon.

"Am I to really believe this is because of me?"

"Your babbling seemed to inspire me somehow. It looks reasonably good doesn't it?"

"I'll be glad to come here from now on. I love it,"

"Good. Now, shall we?"

Elena dressed in her robe and sat down. Damon grew serious; he placed the canvas on the easel and immediately took to painting. The colours he mixed seemed so light, so air; the pastels – the mint, the rose, the lemon sorbet, they all reminded of summer and Elena wondered if this scene really inspired such positive associations. She sat still, fearful of making him slip and make a mistake. Somehow she felt different and it bewildered her; before he looked at her with contempt, merely regarded her as an object, but now he seemed to see more, beyond the one sided shell of a human body. Into her, without even knowing her. Elena hoped he was not pretending, she hoped he actually felt something. Elena felt exuberant and thrilled that morning.

Damon painted until he could no longer lift the brush.

"Shall we go out for lunch? I'll buy,"

"It isn't necessary for you to pay for me every time. I work, whilst as far as I'm aware, you don't,"

"Trust me, it really does not present any difficulty for me. Besides I feel more gallant that way, knowing that I am an incredible bastard every other way," Elena smiled. She wished to disagree, but he did not have the lightest of characters.

They had lunch on the right bank in a small and crowded brasserie and then strolled amongst the few parks which looked to resemble spring. They then headed back and spent the afternoon painting.

It was late. They had been out, walking, talking and now sat upon Elena's bed in deep conversation.

"I suppose it's simply a matter we can't agree about and shouldn't discuss,"

"At least there I agree," Damon muttered.

"Tea?"

"I swear you'll kill me with that,"

"And alcohol was of course better. For your health that is,"

Damon rolled his eyes scornfully. He regarded and intently observed how Elena stood up, her petite figure visible as the pyjamas touched her skin lightly, her hair swayed and moved with a life of its own. As she put the two peppermint tea bags into the small cups, he approached her. Standing behind her, breathing in the strawberry and wood of her hair. They were nearly touching, but he felt apprehensive she might be resentful and unwilling. Damon moved towards her slowly, pressing his body against hers and feeling her tremble as he placed his hands on her hips. His hand stroked her hair, he stroked it away from her neck and laid kisses upon the soft, creamy skin. Elena could stand it no longer. She turned to him, her eyes still dark, still mysterious, still terrifyingly expressive without clear meaning. She placed her hands on Damon's back and reached up to meet his height as they came close to one another. Their lips just slightly apart they stood, still confused whether this was a good decision. Damon resolved their impediment. His lips fell upon hers in a fiery passion leaving no room for doubt, no room for breath. They kissed strongly, caressing each other with a softness that was common to love and with a fire that was common with lust. Damon lusted after Elena's kiss, her touch, her body. The kiss was not enough. The more aggressive it became, the more he wanted her, the stronger his arousal grew. His body pressed into Elena, pressing her against the small table. Elena's hands passed underneath his shirt and gripped gently into his skin, sending waves of enticement through him, she then raised his shirt. Damon's hand passed under her silky top; he felt the slight sting of static pass through him. His hands caressed her skin, her small waist, and her perfectly formed, small, ripe breasts. He could feel her heart beat like mad and it tempted him even more.

Damon undid button by button and revealed her bare skin to him. It was just as picturesque and flawless as he had imagined. His hand passed of her back bone, feeling the cold skin there as a result from the window behind them. They finally broke apart. A kiss which had lasted so long they had hardly known what they were doing. With the help of Damon, Elena removed his trousers and Elena removed hers. They stood bare, exposed in front of each other and both were burning with troubling lust. Damon's hand snaked around her waist and pulled her to him. He turned her around and began to caress her thigh, her waist, her neck. Elena could feel his arousal press into her from the back, but he would not stop; his hand moved down towards her heat, she was warm and wet and as Damon's fingers moved over her and enticed her Elena let out a gasp. His other hand passed over her breasts and her waist, holding her tightly pressed to him. Elena felt herself being pushed over the edge. Damon finally let her turn to him and they fell upon the nearby bed. Elena was above him and as she moved over Damon's length, Damon felt himself unable to control himself. His grip on her tightened and in a second she had him inside her. They moved slowly at first, adjusting to each other, so strange seemed this scene. Damon looked into her eyes trying to find something there, his hand moved to her hair and he stroked it back from her face. Elena leaned towards him and planted kisses all along his neck and then one upon his lips, which through Damon's initiative turned into an intense and flaming kiss.

The bed creaked pleasantly, the air was icy and cold, through the window the moonlight crept into the room and upon them. Damon caressed Elena's skin, still feeling its perfect smoothness and the symmetry and perfection of her light curves. Elena's cheeks were bright pink and her lips an even brighter thulian. Elena moved fast above him, increasing her pleasure and maximizing his. They both reached climax as Damon raised himself and pressed against Elena. They now sat facing each other, she in his lap, still feeling his length, his arousal within her. His hands touched the back of her neck and made her tingle lightly. They felt breathless yet full of energy, tired yet inspired.

"Was this a mistake?"

"Only if we want it to be," Damon muttered, and kissing her earlobe gently, "I don't,"

At seven o'clock Elena awoke with a surge of vigour. Damon still slept deeply beside her. Her eyes passed over him lovingly with utter bewilderment. His naked body was wrapped in the duvet, hers beside him. Elena got up and stretched as she observed the warming sunshine outside.

"Extraordinary," Elena whispered to herself.

She dressed herself casually and rushed out the door, returning only half an hour later with a batch of light rose tulips with minty green stems, pancakes, a jar of blueberry jam and fresh milk. Damon still lay there undisturbed, asleep. Elena felt somewhat silly being so attentive, yet she did more for herself because with the coming of spring she had more of an incentive to do things. She arranged their breakfast on the floor and she had to admit it looked charming in the light of the lemony morning sun. As she sat admiring her work, she felt a hand caress her back.

"Morning,"

Elena smiled for lack of words.

"Breakfast," Damon assented through half closed eyes, "You didn't have to. We could have gone out,"

"We shouldn't have to go out every time,"

Damon somehow came to and they ate breakfast in rather an awkward silence. Neither could properly describe what had happened and most importantly what will happen. A relationship between the two seemed too far-fetched as they had rather inexplicable sentiments towards one another and limited knowledge of one another. Damon didn't even know her name.

"I have to attend to something today, so I won't be able to paint you, but next week, all right?"

"Mhm," Elena nodded with a smile. If Damon could read her eyes he would know. He would see her worry, see her troubling questions. If Elena would not be so assured Damon was an insensitive bastard she might know he was wondering the same things and feeling distraught over the same questions. The two parted at the door.

"Should I come by tonight?" Damon asked.

"You've never asked before. Please don't start now," Damon nodded in agreement and left for his own apartment, where he was even more reminded of the beauty next door as his new interior was just for her, because of her. If it weren't for her, he would be nothing at this very moment. Damon was still assured it was more friendship than anything else, because he knew she could never love him and he would prefer to have one person he could never lose. He had heard that friends remain as the years go by. What had happened was simply something they needed to move past, rise above. They were now free to all given possibilities, all resolutions. And yet Damon was worried. About what he couldn't explain.

Elena put on her coat and took her notebook. It was all she needed. She tiptoed along their small corridor fearful Damon might hear her presence. She wished to be undisturbed. Elena spent her day in parks on benches, in a café, later in her apartment, all the while writing. All because of Damon. All because he had made her believe art was possible in any expressive way. As she came home she fell into her bed and lost in her duvet and pillows remembered their night. Their _Shared night together._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Note **Hello, darlings! Just wished to say that this was quite a fun chapter and I hope you found it delightful, promising even! Please be so lovely as to review,_

_Yours excitedly,_

_Martina.  
><em>


	4. Each coming night

_**Each coming night.**_

The rainy weather had not stopped. The dull of the spring had set in. The promise of light and pastel colours in the clouds, on trees and in people seemed to obliterate with the minuscule and sometimes heavy showers that fell upon the unsuspecting. Elena awaited the sun. When the sun was out she would sit upon the floor of her apartment and write. And read. And drink coffee. It pleased her greatly to be able to enjoy herself in her own company once in a while, because most of her time she spent with Damon. She had not seen him yet, after their night together. Elena still feared it might be slightly uncomfortable, but knowing that Damon would probably be ignorant of the event, she decided not to pay too much care to fantasizing about it either.

There was a bird's nest right outside her window. Behind the framed and dusty glass there chirped small birds of light brown and grey. Elena's mind was dulled and bored by the pasty sky, the lack of excitement and her poor prospects. A day came when she decided to spice things up. Still having no word from Damon, despite it being a Saturday, she decided to put effort into herself and her surroundings, to cheer herself up. It had most certainly worked for Damon. She moved her furniture around; now her bed stood right beside the window, so she could see the dawn and sunset colours, which she always regarded so prettily, at all times, the window sill now served as a night table, her books now took on the role of books instead of furniture and were all huddled together in piles, upon the small table which she had, where her bed had once stood. The wall looked spectacularly intelligent. Elena decided to take it a step further and went out and returned quickly with a pot of a rosy colour and a perfectly round cut out of a circle. She spend the whole of the day, while it remained light, working away at painting small circles on her walls turning them from the creamy white to a pattern, to the sound of a musician playing outside right beside their house. The sounds of blues filled her room and made her sway delightfully in rhythm and it made her glad to think that if Damon was home he also heard the magical notes in the air.

Knock. Quite reluctant. Knock. Elena roused herself and looked about her. It was seven on a Sunday morning and the sky had but not one cloud obscuring it. She noticed her new apartment and smiled delightfully. Elena walked slowly and calmly to the door, with great poise, yet growing warm and rosy with happiness.

"Morning," Damon stood there. In a light cardigan, with small grey buttons. With a black beret. "I thought we might stroll around the Louvre today,"

"Perhaps, we could. But I still don't see why it has to be so early,"

"So I could paint later. I would like to see the paintings to make my momentary inspiration thrive,"

"Plagiarism?" Damon smiled.

"Come now. Don't stall," Damon moved inside her room and close to her, "I know you want to," He made no romantic attempt, yet his voice had turned seductive and his eyes were piercing wild. Elena closed the door on him and tried to find something suitable. She had a sudden desire to impress him, but after looking at her ten articles of clothing that she thought were pretty, she realized that Damon would probably find them dull anyway. And so she chose the first dress she could find; apricot with an accented bustier and took her trench coat, feeling entirely absorbed by spring. Elena also had a beret, which she was fond of wearing in spring, but she did not wish to put it on now. He looked foolish enough by himself, she thought. She found Damon sitting on the stairs beside their apartments and as she came outside she saw the glitter of a profound smile upon him. He then stretched out his elbow for her and they descended the stairs and were soon upon the quiet and refreshing morning streets.

Upon their walk to the museum Damon took her hand in his.

"You're cold. Freezing even,"

Elena smiled happily, "I know. And I don't mind. It's part of what I love about spring so much. The cool air. It hides behind the sun and confuses you. I find it lovely," He caressed her hand in his, warming it as he was tepid. Elena's eyes fell upon him as he walked decisively forward and she felt her heat skip a beat just at the look of him. She did not look at him often. It was insecurity and fear more than anything else.

"If you say so," Damon finally muttered.

They reached the bank of the Seine. Only a short way off was the museum. And yet they walked slowly; as slowly as was possible. Damon was telling Elena of the painting; what it was and what it should be.

"I am never satisfied with my work," He said seriously, "It's most certainly a fault, but if you are a perfectionist, you will remain one,"

"I hardly pictured you as a perfectionist. A procrastinator, maybe," Damon squeezed her hand ever so lightly.

"How are your stories coming along?" Elena felt a little stunned. He had never inquired about her. In any manner really and now he was asking her of what was most important to her.

"Quite good. I am at a loss for ideas at the moment, but soon something will spark up,"

"You are creative. I can tell,"

"You've changed your tune. Some weeks ago I was boring and passive,"

Damon stopped them and turned to her with a smile. It was not quite warm, but held something honest.

"Ah," He said excitedly, "But I didn't know you then, did I?" Elena laughed brightly. They turned to their stroll again and she moved a little closer to him, pressing lightly against his cardigan, imagining his skin beneath it. She liked the way his eyes upon her made her shiver, the goose bumps his touch made her form. It all seemed like love, but she didn't believe it. It seemed too unbelievable that someone she despised so much at first had become so worthy and wonderful in her eyes. Besides she knew he was a truly grand friend, but she knew that their relationship would be doomed from the start. And more yet, he had the false impression he knew her, was in accord with the knowledge she had of him, in terms of her, but that was not true at all. Elena had barely told him any aspect of her life.

Their time at the museum passed well. Damon observed all the paintings in their technicality and did so methodically, whilst Elena whizzed through the halls grasping hold of the colours and atmospheres of the unique pieces. Damon would stop her and bring her to a painting and then begin to go into detail why he admired the work or how he would improve it, or how a painting had become entirely worn, but as was visible; you cannot cage a bird and so Elena just disappeared from him again and again. Finally when it came to midday, they left the labyrinths of the Louvre and joined other people in luncheon in the crowded French brasseries.

Upon Elena's initiative they entered a small bookstore. The books smelt of vanilla and the lights in the store were dim. Damon turned to old books about impressionism while Elena wandered through the novels. Romance, drama, tragedy, friendship; it consumed her greatly and she held the books to her chest forgetting herself in the spur of the moment. Damon knew she was delightfully overwhelmed and smiled in his thoughts at the bewildering creature which he had had the pleasure to behold. His confusement about his own emotions towards their night seemed to know no limits. Each time he turned his eyes toward her, he seemed to lust after more than before. It hurt him greatly that she had not mentioned a thing. And yet so hadn't he. Hurt him; Damon was stunned. He was actually affected by another person and this seemed very otherworldly to him. It had not happened before. He actually thought back and realized that all this time he'd felt something. When he was with her that is. Happiness, anger, irritation, contentment; it did not matter what emotion, but it felt as if he had suddenly returned back to life. That was it. That was the moment he realised he loved her.

The problem, however, was just to occur to him. He could never express his feelings without betraying his own pride. Yes, it was self-absorbed and entirely insensible, but a person could not change overnight. Elena tugged at his sleeve and motioned for them to go, because the pressure of seeing all these books, but having no money to spend on them was truly a painful position to be in. Damon thought he must act quickly. In his baffled state he took a step towards her, feeling her close against him and kissed her on the cheek lovingly. Then almost feeling too embarrassed and humiliated went outside the store and decided to wait for her to come. It took Elena a moment to gather her senses and accompany him. Damon began to walk rapidly and kept his eyes down upon the ground at all times, barely noticing the cars that drove past and the people he nearly ran into. When they reached their building, Damon felt so out of breath, he could not stand his own breathing any longer. It was hurting his ears and mind.

"Would you come to my place? I don't feel like posing today and you don't look much like painting,"

Damon sighed deeply. "Of course,"

They entered her rooms. Damon stood for a while gazing at the fresh setting and pondered to himself whether Elena really had done something different to the place or he was simply becoming dizzy from his rush over there. Elena, meanwhile, bit her lip nervously to see what he would say. Perhaps, from his artistic point of view it would be silly and almost too flaunting. And yet the late afternoon sun shot its warm and golden rays upon the white sheets of the bed and illuminated the freshly dotted wall and all her books. It was her place indeed. It was written on each touch.

"It looks charming," Damon said breathlessly. Then he turned to her and with an ironic smile whispered; "I'll be glad to come here from now on," Elena shot him an irritated look.

"Tea?" Damon rolled his eyes.

"Something a little stronger perhaps? Or more refreshing?"

"Coffee?" Elena said unsurely. Damon rolled his eyes again, "Those are the only things I have,"

"We need to go shopping,"

"Oh! Wait!" Elena rushed over to the bed and reached under it to produce a beautifully designed bottle, which held an emerald green liquid, "I found it yesterday when rearranging the place. I bought it two months ago when Katherine was to come. Will it do?"

Damon examined the bottle carefully and then said seriously; "Oh, yes. Absinth will do,"

And so they found glasses and drank the liquor in small sips, feeling it burn them delightfully inside. Elena began to feel tipsy immediately. She rarely relied on alcohol; cheap wine once in a while, but as she did not have many commitments and appointments outside her own home, she was not used to drink. Damon on the other hand felt no enticement. He only felt the pleasant taste of alcohol. And also how well this scene suited him; Elena amongst the last of the sun's disappearing amber rays, holding the glass of absinth, smiling at him profoundly and prettily. They sat on the floor and Damon felt the bohemian in him flare up with all its might. Elena decided to open the window. She stood up, but felt quite unstable. With a quiet giggle she opened the window and tried to sit back down again, but not for lack of effort, but just missing the mark, she fell in the bed instead. Damon rolled his eyes. It seemed it was all he was doing, because she amused him with nearly everything she did.

"Upsy daisy," Elena muttered somewhere over another sip.

"You're drunk, I presume," Damon said as he stood up and sat on the bed. Elena imitated with her hand a small amount and then giggled. "I don't even have to presume it, it's clearly obvious," He then muttered.

"Damon," Elena began, almost soberly.

"Yes, my love?"

"Are we together?" And suddenly Damon wished he were drunk. He most certainly didn't know the answer, but he longed to approve. But he did not wish to put himself in a fool's role. He pondered over the complicity of this question, because he knew that Elena had probably lost track of time and then finally coming to a rather queer conclusion said;

"Yes, I suppose so," Elena roused herself to a sitting position and with a smile as heartfelt as no other could be whispered;

"Then you may kiss me,"

Damon knew it was wrong. Marginally incorrect. His lips fell upon hers in that very moment and he felt her delightful warmth pass through him. His hands caressed the soft fabric of her dress and then moved to her thigh. Every ounce of sanity in him was screaming to not make use of this moment, but it was what he wanted so. Elena kissed him passionately, furiously, temptingly. He felt his arousal for her grow by the second. Elena felt his hair with her fingers and giggled through the kiss, which only enticed him more. His hands went to her waist as he clung to her desperately wishing to tear of the fabric and have her soft, what seemed to be, untouched skin for him and him only. Elena moved her hand down to trousers, but then Damon took her by the shoulders and stared deep into her eyes, which for a moment seemed to drive Elena into clarity;

"We should not be doing this. I don't want to use you. Whatever I might have done, I don't want to use you," And he stood up and kissed her upon her head, inhaling the scent of her fresh and clean hair and then left holding back from attempting it once more. He closed the door behind him gently and then in despair sat down upon the staircase and in his mind stood watch if Elena were to make an attempt at leaving the house in her current state. But for two hours he heard nothing. And then as the minutes passed he felt himself overtaken by sleep and eventually dozed off, paying no attention to the draughty wind or the hard surface of the wall he rested his head upon, because his thoughts were occupied by Elena.

* * *

><p>"Damon," Elena poked his shoulder gently, "Please wake up," Damon's eyes sprung open as he saw Elena beside him in her warmest pyjamas and looking wonderfully healthy and awake, "Thank goodness. I was so worried. I nudged you more than twenty times,"<p>

"I was tired," Damon sat upright and felt his head. It hurt horribly. The wall was most certainly not great for satisfying sleep.

"Come inside. I'll make you some tea," Damon smiled. He smiled because he loved her. He smiled because she was so beautiful. He smiled because she was always the way she was. And he never wanted her to change.

They went inside the room, which now looked superbly cosy in the twinkling candle light. Elena put the kettle on to boil and then went over to the bed and sat upon it beside the distraught Damon. He took her hand in his and looked at her without a smile.

"What you did, most guys wouldn't do," Elena said, "Thank you,"

"How are you feeling?"

"I still feel a bit dizzy and my head hurts terribly, but I feel fine," She stood up and prepared the tea. Giving Damon's cup to him, she then took hers and went over to the books. She stood there beside them; the most lit place in the small room as all the candles were placed strategically amongst the stacked books. "I don't understand,"

"What, precisely?"

"You said we were together. But I was the one that was tipsy,"

Damon's eyes sank down in his tea. He knew it was a mistake. It was inevitable it would come up, but in the silence and calm of the evening it seemed absolutely terrifying. Damon knew no way how to explain his mishap, his sudden burst of chivalry and braveness, although in it losing his honour. Perhaps it was best to admit it. But he feared she would mock him.

"I did. But I don't know the answer to the question now,"

"Is it because of today?" Elena suddenly felt a tear in her heart.

"No, no," Damon exclaimed frightfully, "I just don't know. I am bad at relationships. Horrible, in fact. So horrible that I have never even had one. I don't want you to be unhappy that way. Then again I don't know how I would feel if I saw you with anyone else,"

"You're a magnificent friend. Truly you are. But I can't be with someone who doesn't care about me, the way I care about him," Elena turned away to face the wall. The small rosy dots now haunted her. They seemed too cheerful, too happy. She felt she had just said something utterly stupid. Something which exposed her very being, her feelings all in one. Terrified of seeing Damon comprehend her words, she avoided him at all costs. Elena noticed that her hand shook lightly and that the tea swirled inside as waves upon water, when her hand was taken by his and she felt him pull her close to him. He kissed her collarbone, her neck. It appeared as if both were at a loss for words, yet once more.

"I care. And I think that you know I do," Damon whispered, "Is it really that important that we should know each other? Why can't we start with a blank slate? Have our relationship be the thing which is our past, present and future,"

"A mere minute ago you said you didn't want a relationship,"

"It was a lie. It's all lies. I say things I don't mean, when I can't say what I really want. There. Now you know something about me,"

Elena went away for a moment. She stared outside the window at the lights in all the windows across Montmartre. The small lights that said that people were there. The two of them were one of those lights. Elena placed her cup on the window sill and turned to him. For a moment the raven blacks and the deep sea blues stared at each other and then Elena embraced him. No kiss was needed; they just stood in each other's embrace. It was a desperate measure to avoid words. After a moment they broke apart and Damon looked at her, afraid and befuddled. Elena smiled gently.

"I'll come by next week," Damon said unsurely and then left. Elena did not feel crushed or wounded, but hopeful. At long last she knew he had emotions, he had something besides the wish to control and command. This inspired her and she knew that something could still be made right and with the touch of fate they could still embark upon a relationship. _C'est la vie!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Note **Hi, my loves! Just wished to say that this has been one of the most complicated chapters to write, because I have no idea in what direction I'm going. I suppose you'll see, but for now remain hopeful. Besides that, I really do hope you found this enjoyable and please be so kind as to review! Yours excitedly, Martina.  
><em>


	5. Voice of the cuckoo

**_Voice of the cuckoo. _**

The cafe was quiet. Silent as a grave. Outside a slight drizzle was beginning to form and the arising fog obscured the café. The light wood walls appeared to be of a dark cherry and the face of the woman opposite her seemed to inspire distrust and fear. Elena sat, tugging away at her dress, feeling terribly uncomfortable, as the woman spoke to the waiter. Elena was applying for a job. Her job as a nurse was not enough to meet her needs, so she decided to work her weekends in the café nearby, as everyone else from the staff usually wanted their weekends to be free. Elena had never worked in a café before, she had only delighted in unwinding in these magical places, where conversations seemed to prosper and blossom. The woman shooed the young man away and turned to Elena.

"I do want to see if you can work before actually hiring you, so come by this weekend for a trial and then we'll see. You have no qualifications, not that you really need any, but I have to see if you can do your job and if the clients like you,"

"Thank you. I will,"

"You start at 7 in the morning," Elena stood up and with a smile left, knowing that the woman was judging her every move. The morning seemed delightful in its gloominess. Elena was wrapped up in her trench coat, her long locks of chestnut hair spread across her back and chest. Elena hid her face from the drizzle and rushed home. As she was in front of their building Elena stopped. She knew. She felt it. She felt that Damon was upstairs by his window in the dim and dusky light and was smoking slowly drawing out each inhale. Somehow she felt so connected to him that at any given time she could tell what he was doing. He had painted her the weekend before. Elena had gone to the apartment posed and then left. He wasn't cold. He was dedicated and so was she. It would still be some time before the painting was done and what frightened Elena most was what would happen after. As she ascended the stairs letting her fingers pass over the cracked walls and the broken lacquered rail she thought of what it would be like to be alone again.

When she reached their pathway Damon was standing in front of her door. Leaning against it his eyes seemed seductive, his glance passed over her body. Damon took steps towards her, unsure in his manner, slow because it suited him, cautious because he feared to disturb Elena as she looked so confused and bewildered in front of him. Standing before her, he placed his hands upon her waist and pulled her close breathing in the smell of rain from her hair, feeling her cold and shivering body warm to his. Elena's hands wrapped tightly around Damon and she felt so wonderfully content to be so close to him, because she lacked his company at all times. Damon leaned into her, his lips hovering near hers as he whispered.

"Where were you?" Then moving close to her ear, pressing tightly against her, forcing his grip, "Where have you been? I thought you'd abandoned me," Elena's soft and rosy lips formed a smile as she placed a kiss upon his neck and then his cheek.

"Never," She whispered. Damon kept his hold on her and gently led her to his apartment. The window was open, letting in the grey and misty morning fog and the chilly morning air. He stopped her and placed his hands upon her shoulders to remove her wet trench revealing the shivering and bare skin. Damon ran his warm hands along her thighs and felt Elena pull back lightly being overwhelmed by the sudden heat. Elena's eyes remained closed. She felt everything about him; his peculiar scent of cigarettes, his light almost non-existent cologne, his rugged cheek against hers, the taste of black coffee upon his lips as they merged with hers. Her fingers ran along his back underneath his shirt sensing every slight imperfection and admiring it even more. Damon took off her dress; slowly untying the flowing bow, unbuttoning the three buttons one by one seeing her respond to the slightest of his touches. Elena stood exposed before him and felt him caress her cold and watery skin as he moved his hands along her lines, the curves of her well-formed hips, her slender thighs, her immaculate and aroused breasts. Feeling the goose bumps on her arms, Damon moved Elena to the bed. A few gentle steps and Elena fell upon the pressed mattress and the unarranged sheets which smelt of tea and books.

Damon embodied her beneath him; he caressed her wetness and felt her body warm just from his touch. Elena undid his zipper in a mere moment; her lust growing unbearable, feeling that the prolonged enticement was more a benefit for him rather than herself. Damon entered her placing his hand upon her breast and letting himself indulge in the desires he felt and required. They could sense their arousal growing by the second and yet neither of them wished to bring it to an end. Damon's lips landed upon hers, receiving the relieved and ecstatic moan as it came and she let her lips devour him, in angst and fury for another touch, kiss, caress. As Damon felt himself reach his end Elena placed her hand upon his chest and felt the strong beats of his heart. Thump – thump – thump, they became more and more rapid and savage with his release. Damon fell into her arms, kissing her soft and silky skin that was caressed by the deep of the fog. As the drizzle turned to rain, Damon held Elena and didn't intend to let her go.

"Where were you?" Damon asked lying opposite her upon the bed, their bare bodies draped lightly only by the white transparent sheet.

"Outside. A morning stroll, if you will," Elena wondered why she lied. There was no reason and yet it seemed more reasonable with Damon.

"I know that isn't true. I know it shouldn't matter. But I'm worried. I can't imagine surrendering you to anyone, for any purpose, but for my own benefit,"

"Your words are insulting, as always. Is it that you think you own me?"

"You can never cage a free bird, but I would like to. I'm afraid you'll disappear and I'll be forced by fate to fall back into the misery of my previous mistakes,"

"As long as you remain as you are, I won't leave you. I promise to not disappear, if you promise to be kind,"

"It is an awfully big promise to make," Elena smiled and as Damon placed his hand under her chin and so induced her to raise her eyes to his gaze, he realized once more how much he adored the creature before him. Her extravagant likeness and understanding of himself encouraged him like no other had before. She diminished his untrue viciousness, raised promise and hope in him and seemed to like him despite his faults and even laugh at them. There was nothing he could say that she wouldn't turn to good, by the magic and softness of her words. So they lay in the rumpled and dishevelled bed, amongst the misty air and smell of spring and Damon wished just for a moment that they would be together.

* * *

><p>The café was silent despite the quiet murmur of the chatter or early morning birds. The tables shone cherry red in the dim light with their mahogany surface, the white cups upon them gleamed bright snow white. Elena stood at the counter and poured sparkling sugar into miniscule cups, each painted with a small, imperfect rose. Elena's eyes wandered away from her task to the blooming dusty pink cherry tree beyond the glossy window. The wind swayed the tree mildly and the little petals flew into people's hair without them even noticing. The door opened and a dark shadow entered carrying in behind him the first of the morning light. He sat down at the corner table, by the window beyond which rested the enchanting tree. Elena roused herself from her dreams and took the menu card over to the table. Her palm rested against the wooden surface for a brief second, but it was enough for Damon to grab her hand possessively in his.<p>

"What are you doing here?" Was Damon's question to Elena's startled and bewildered surprise.

"I have to work. This is a good place. Why are you so furious?"

"I just wished you had told me. You'll have to work all day won't you?"

"It was not I who demanded the secrecy in our affair," Elena snapped, knowing well that it was actually her fault. It had been simple to tell him, but she had just behaved as she thought he would if he were her, "Yes, all day today and Sunday too,"

Damon's stare on her didn't cease: "The painting? I could have given you money, you didn't have to make such a commitment. When will we paint now?"

"Some other time. Now let go," Elena broke from his grasp and went back to the counter, but Damon followed.

"I don't like this. I don't want to see you on display here,"

"Don't be ridiculous,"

"I'm not. I come here often and I see how those drunken perverts act around girls like yourself, but none of them have ever even compared to your beauty. Don't put yourself in harm's way and don't make me fear for you," His blue eyes now shot a look of sincere sympathy at her. It was almost enough for Elena to believe what he said and yet she could not abandon her independence for him.

"Don't come here anymore. I mean it. Leave, now even," With that Damon moved close to her, pressing his body into hers and kissed her cheek mournfully, then left with a swift step.

Elena returned to the people in the café, but now it seemed different and less tempting to remain in this forsaken place, which now would no longer hold the one person she really wanted to see.

The evening approached swiftly and soon Elena was in her bed, looking outside at the lilac and thulian lines amongst the horizon, the sunset always set aside the gloomy greyness of rain clouds of the day. Among her tea and dotted walls, and books Elena felt cosier than ever and yet the uneasiness had been amongst her all day and an encounter with Damon would be the only manner of solving it. Right at that moment she heard the pleasant sound she so longed to hear.

Gracefully she approached the door in her warm and pinkish pyjamas and upon opening it found someone unexpected.

"Katherine, are you all right?"

"No. I cannot believe he left me,"

"Again? Oh, come in,"

"Thanks. This place looks, well, better than before. Oh, souris, what am I going to do now? Go back to Klaus? That would just be embarrassing,"

"You can stay here if you like. There's not much room, but,"

"No, thanks, I'll fare better somewhere else. I don't want to be so close to your strange neighbour,"

"You don't even know him. You've only been with him once,"

"Sounds like someone has a fancy towards him. Don't get your hopes up, darling. I'll tell you this; a little while back when me and Elijah weren't doing so well, I came back just for a night of fun and it was fun, but then when I was leaving I saw a painting, that he did of me, if you can imagine. We only had one night together and he had been painting me. If that's not mad I don't know what is. Stay away from him for you own good. But really Elena, what should I do?"

Katherine continued to rant as she always had done, she raided Elena's food, drank the champagne in her fridge, which she held for some special occasion, such as an evening with Damon whilst Elena simply sat on the bed, her cheeks glowing gold with the sunset light, completely ignorant of anything, completely hopeless. When had Katherine come back? Had it been before they slept together, after? Elena didn't know, not the slightest clue and in some way she didn't even care, because she felt like he had betrayed her trust in every way, just by being him. Two hours later Katherine left, without a real goodbye, a thank you and Elena still sat and pondered over what it all meant. There was another knock on her door.

"No. I know she told you, but it doesn't matter," Were Damon's first rushed words. Elena didn't respond she just returned to the bed. The wall in front of her calmed her and yet the dots once again seemed to be mocking her with their cheerfulness.

"Don't be like this. Please. My darling," Damon fell on his knees before the bed, before her and held her hands in his. The desperation he felt was indescribable, even the glimmer of the possibility of losing her drove him mad; he didn't care for Katherine. The night had been a mistake, a reflection on his despicable character and deplorable choices. "Listen to me; I love you, more than anything, anyone in the world. I love you. Please, will you listen! Will you forgive me?"

"I don't even know if there is anything to forgive. We are not in a relationship, Damon! What you do doesn't interest me just as I don't interest you in the least,"

"That's not true. I,"

"If you'll say that you love me I swear I'll slap you,"

"Please, believe me," Damon sat down beside her and drew her close feeling her reluctance.

"No. Love is something which has a strong reason for being. We, we don't even know each other. Besides the painting and our accepting and understanding natures there is nothing that can be used to build trust, love and all that goes along with it. I think we should just remain friends,"

"I don't want you as my friend. I want you both as my best friend and love, but I don't know how to prove it to you, because you won't believe me! Let us see what we are like together. Just see. If you think I'm lying about loving you, we can drift apart, but I won't leave you without even embarking upon this chance," Damon leaned in close to her and saw the ravens stare at him with nothing but their blackness. It irritated him that he didn't know what she felt, that her expressions lay dormant and bubbled beneath the beautiful surface. His hand caressed her cheek and their lips met; behind them the warm collision of the golden and purplish colours and their lips gently meeting in a swirl of a strawberry kiss.

Their first steps to a relationship, or something similar to that, but with a not yet invented name were taken that very night, as Elena sat beneath the cosy duvet in her bed, her head warm against the soft pillow, her eyes staring at the small black print of the book, Damon was busy making tea, confused by the distinct flavours and boxes. He then brought the memorable cups to the bed and as they sat together, drank their tea and devoted themselves to their usual existential conversations they felt cosily at home, which happens only in good company.

* * *

><p>The very next morning as the first of the sun rays graced the dotted wall, Elena was awake by habit. She dressed quickly, giving near to no attention to her appearance and rushed out the door, still managing to give Damon a quick peck on his cheek, while he lay sound asleep. She ended up looking lovelier than ever. The café was empty; the chairs seemed to yearn for human presence, the tables for the intriguing conversations of philosophers, artists, lovers and bohemians. Elena went behind the counter and got to work. She arranged all the pastries as such as was appealing, cleaned the counter, tables and then drank a cup of coffee with the other waiters. Then the doors were opened and people one by one came in to take their morning croissant and coffee.<p>

As Elena bustled behind the counter and responded to orders, she was at one moment stopped by the woman, who told her she was hired for the weekends. This made Elena inexplicably happy because she knew it was a great opportunity, because such charming cafes with such freedom were a rare find. Around ten o'clock, when the morning rush had ceased, Damon came in.

He sat at the same table, beside the same blossoming tree, but now radiated light and seemed to hold even the flicker of a smile. His eyes were inviting and he made Elena smile immediately. With a cautious, but almost bubbly stroll she approached his table.

"Hello,"

"I suppose I can't kiss you while that important lady is watching, can I?"

"I don't think that would be wise. I was just hired a few hours ago. What will you have?"

"Just the coffee, please. Black. You know how I like it," Elena nodded and went off, but all the while whilst she was making his coffee, they exchanged those looks of flirtation that can only be attributed to new and blossoming love, a love resembling spring in each its step. After Damon had drunk his beverage and been there gazing at her for a while, he left with a sweet smile, that seemed to melt Elena's heart and make her wonder if she'd been too naïve or if he really was so very charming and enchanting. But by midday, Elena was tired of pondering over this and settled for the fact that Damon really was right for her and returned to her happily dreamed world. As she was waiting behind the counter Elena noticed that beside two of the tables there was a shelf which held three puny little books.

"Caroline, why are there only three books there?"

"Oh, the rest are back there in boxes. I suppose we are just too lazy to put them there, plus they are harder to dust off and nobody really reads them,"

Elena immediately attended to the boxes and discovered hidden treasures and then arranged them all neatly upon the shelf. Now the café had even more the air of her ambiance and the books did bring warmth to that dreary corner and those that had observed Elena's neat attempt then took a book to flip through whilst they sipped their apple and caramel tea or ate their little galettes. After a day of work, Elena sat outside the café and rested under the cherry blossom tree upon the curb. It was quiet as it was no longer time for people to come from work and too early for them to go out and so Elena sat and listened to the silence. In a brief moment Damon joined her, knowing she would have finished her shift and so she rested her head upon his shoulder, her soft hair falling along the lines of his arm, and let her eyes drop closed and her mind ease to the sound of the cherry petals gracing their love with a delicate blessing.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Note **Hello, darlings! I must apologize for my absence, but I had a lack of creative thought as I was completely ill this past week. I hope that now I'll be able to update sooner and anywho, I hope you found this chapter charming and please be so kind as to review! Yours excitedly, Martina._


	6. My man

_**My man.**_

It was that magical moment before the lights are turned on for the night, but it is dark and obscure enough that nothing can be clearly seen. Elena sat upon her bed, her legs in transparent stockings stretched out elegantly upon the sheets. She pondered curiously over her stories; there was something she lacked, perhaps the excitement in her own life, so she could place it in her romances. A week now she had been in a relationship with Damon, yet nothing had happened. They had gone to cafes after her shift, they had spent time in his apartment indulging in their usual discussions and yet they had no adventures together. The most memorable time they had spent together was when they were painting, because that was a moment rarely shared between any two loves. Elena's mind wandered off to all the possibilities that were out of reach; trips around the world, great holidays in the country, anything really. Elena came to the conclusion that they were obligated to create memorable memories and so she started pondering what they could possibly do.

Damon did not knock. He hadn't knocked the last few days. He came inside with a bottle of Mum's champagne and found a sullen Elena staring off into the distance amongst her picturesque surroundings. He placed the liquor carefully and cautiously upon the small table and sat down beside her. His finger ran along her cheek, which made her eyes shoot down and her smile glisten while she still said nothing.

"Don't tempt me with those charming eyes,"

"I've realised that we must do something,"

"What do you have in mind?" As Damon granted her a look of sincere smugness, she hit his leg.

"Don't be like that. We must go and venture otherwise we'll become boring, because we already slightly are. We do nothing besides sit and talk. I feel like a mushroom,"

"You are awfully harsh on us. I don't think we deserve it. Our conversations are adventurously stimulating," Elena rolled her eyes and stood up. She stood by the bed, the dusky light illuminating her silhouette beneath the chiffon dress. Elena's figure appeared as sculptured as a gliding marble statue, yet the warmth behind the honey skin and the large coal eyes created an even more charming image. Damon regarded her every move; how she placed her delicate, soft and graceful hand to her neck, her inhale of the fresh evening air that made her breasts rise gently, each delicate and intricate detail of her character became apparent to him in its astounding beauty.

"Tomorrow we'll do something. Whatever it may be I guarantee you I'll think of something," Elena smiled as she sat down in Damon's lap and put her arms around his neck, pulling him close, feeling the sensuous aroma of cigarettes about him. Her eyes wandered off outside the window, where light by light the city was illuminated and she smiled within.

The early morning brought a pleasant surprise in the form of a well-rested Damon. Elena looked upon him with a smile as she made her bed and then putting on her coat they left their cramped apartments and went off into the wilderness of the city as Elena had the day off and Damon was never inclined to work on schedule. Feeling comfortable in each other's company they soon found themselves in the Jardins du Luxembourg, where amongst the trees and shrubs almost no people were to be found. The trees were green and sparkling in the sunny daze and the sandy pathways were as white as pure snow. Their shoes were white with dust, but they kept smiling lightly to themselves. Stopping at the pond, Elena observed the charming brown and grey ducks. They were fluttering amongst themselves and splashing the cold water all around. Damon took out a loaf of bread, which surprised Elena beyond means.

"I cannot believe you would be ready to feed ducks with me,"

"It's not a very memorable memory to create, but at least it's something. I have to admit I lacked ideas," Elena smiled and took his hand in hers. There they remained; the ducks approached them with warmth and expectations, their feathers blowing lightly in the gently chilling spring wind, but the sun remained high and shining upon this scene which seemed so calm and natural that Elena could wish for nothing more. This was all the adventure she needed, for she knew that no trip around the world could make her feel so much at home as she felt now amongst the ducks, Paris, the blooming trees and most of all Damon. The crispy crumbs fell upon the small pebbled white pathway, which stretched out like a delicate ribbon throughout the gardens and the cautious birds nibbled on them softly, which made them happy, the day could have been over then and there because nothing seemed more pleasing at that very moment.

When they returned home to their desirable solitude it was nearly dark outside; the horizon seemed indigo and golden, yet the raven and pavement grey were beginning to overtake the vivid strips. They had been to the Café de Flore where nothing satisfied them more than a café viennois and the picturesque smoke swirling around them from the artistic souls. Damon opened the door of his apartment and with his eyes invited her in. Elena dropped against the windowsill and stared outside, yearning for rain to complete her nostalgic sensation. Her glance followed a flock of birds that flew carelessly and in complete synchrony just outside the clear glass until it shot to Damon, who was looking at her lovingly with expectations.

"You look almost too perfect there," Damon whispered as he approached step by step with great cautiousness, "I've had great luck that I was the first artist to capture this indescribable beauty; your eyes stare at me like two clear hematite's, your hair just sways gently lock by lock as dark chocolate and that perfect, sculpted figure resembles nothing less than that of a Greek goddess," Damon placed his arms around her waspy waist and pulled her close.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Damon grinned self-assuredly, "Well, as much as I admire the compliments, they are too cold and distant, too artistic…"

"I love you," Damon's lips fell upon hers and Elena responded with indescribable passion, because he had said something she could not resist coming from his lips.

Elena's back pressed against the chilled window, the cold glass sending slight waves of pleasure through her body and making her back fall perfectly upon it. The formless darkness crept in and surrounded them, whilst Damon raised her on the windowsill and caressed her thighs; hidden only by a slight part of her flowery dress and covered in transparent stockings which seemed soft to the touch, Damon felt each muscle beneath, each warm spot, his lips meanwhile devouring her, trying desperately to consume the beauty before him. Elena's eyes opened and she moved her hands to his stomach and began raising his black shirt, the fabric soon came off and as she slid her hands over his chest she wished for him to take her, merge with her, have her for himself. Elena unzipped his trousers and felt his burning arousal and Damon being incapable of restraining himself pulled Elena close to him and entered her. A mutual moan of pleasure passed their lips and they kept their kiss locked. Elena held on tightly to Damon feeling the nape of his neck with her slender fingers and dishevelling his hair. As Damon increased his speed and power, he caressed her ripe and taunt breasts and admired the erotic scene which they did so well to create and delight in.

Behind Elena the window suddenly opened lightly and she felt the cool air swirl under her dress. Then small droplets of the falling rain caressed her and Elena smiled to herself. As they both reached their crisis they fell together, one upon the other, feeling the tepid warmth of each other's skin. Damon kissed Elena's shoulder, admiring the impeccable, untouched and pure skin above the bone. They broke apart and Damon caressed her cheek gently before moving his lips to hers. In their embrace they reached the bed and after falling upon it soon fell into a deep sleep. When the clock struck five in the morning, if there would be such a clock, because Damon certainly didn't own one, Elena woke up by nature and then snuck to her apartment, drank her morning coffee and then dressed for work and was soon on her way to the hospital, reminiscing in yesterday's memories and delightful experiences.

* * *

><p>The cherry blossoms swirled in the air with great might and felt in the brooks of the Seine or fell on the ledge outside the two lovers windows. Young birds were cooing in their little straw nests and one nest in particular awaited Elena home as they were already used to her presence just beyond the looking glass. It was eight o'clock. There was faint sunlight gracing the dull horizon and Elena felt too full of energy after such a long day. She carried her gigantic bag of groceries into her apartment and after setting it by the refrigerator she fell upon the bed. In a mere moment Damon came into her apartment. Upon seeing Elena his lips turned to a smile.<p>

"Hello, my love. You look tired," Damon took off his jacket and swung it carelessly upon the floor. Then stood motionless before the bed-ridden Elena.

"On the contrary. I actually thought we might do something tonight. It would be quite interesting for you because I don't think you've actually done it before,"

"What are we talking about?"

"We should cook together. Granted, I only have a hot plate, but that shouldn't matter. I bought some things and as long as we follow the recipe we should avoid any major disasters,"

"Very funny. I have cooked before, but I have to admit I am not in the habit of doing such things. I am a much better observer," Elena moved close to him and placed the palm of her hand against his warm cheek, then pressed her lips to his.

"It will be exciting,"

And so upon the nightfall they began to bustle in Elena's small apartment. Damon cut up the garlic and vividly coloured paprika while Elena prepared the pork strips in soy sauce with sesame seeds. Once in a while Damon sneaked a kiss on her cheek as a show of appreciation as he very well knew that she had turned his sullen existence into a frightfully eventful one. They put their masterpiece together in the hot pan and whilst Damon regarded it with a queer eye, Elena delighted in this small achievement. Once on the pan everything looked delicious. Damon kept stealing the freshly green pieces of paprika out of the pan and Elena was forced to push him aside away from their food. The smell of a home cooked meal filled her apartment and travelled to his, setting an ambiance which these dreary, small places had never seen. They had successfully managed not only to prepare dinner, but also to create somewhat of a home for the two of them, whether it be in his apartment or hers.

"And what would be for dessert?" Damon said smugly falling upon the bed from Elena's push.

"Don't be so demanding," Elena whispered and kissed his forehead. She poured them some orange juice and then they sat down on the floor and awaited their dinner. Damon's head rested against the metal pillar of the bed and Elena lay against him, holding her hand in his. Damon inhaled the smell of her hair; the soft strawberry that always soothed him and what he loved so about her. Then after spending some time in this contemplative mood, their dinner was done and Elena placed it carefully on a plate and provided them with forks. The food melted deliciously in their mouths and the atmosphere was so charming that they both kept smiling at each other and shooting flirtatious looks here and there. It was the perfect way to spend an evening and yet neither of them knew what was to be expected next.

Once the meal was finished, Elena opened the window to let some air in and cleared away the plate. Then after she made some coffee, she returned to the floor. Damon meanwhile was flipping through one of her many books. His eyes turned to hers and he looked at her with an intense gaze.

"I had someone from a gallery, an old friend, come by today,"

"Oh really? To see our painting?"

"Mhm. He found it quite beautiful. His words exactly. He said that if I were to place some last finishing touches on it he would consider displaying it in his gallery,"

"Damon, but that's wonderful!"

"I know. And I could never have done it without you," He leaned to her, his hand falling lightly upon hers, "I want you to marry me,"

"Marry? Why would you want to do that? Aren't we good together like this? Better than good, marvellous even!"

"Yes, that's precisely why I asked you. I don't ever want to lose you, it would destroy me. I am quite frail after all," Elena nodded in a smile. He raised her chin to meet his eyes, "I want something more. I don't quite know how to explain it. I would have never imagined getting married. It's too much of a commitment, but with you it would be exciting, thrilling, even more liberating than my current situation. Something simple would suffice, just so we would be properly deemed to be together,"

"I never imagined this. I can't believe it's you who is asking me. I thought you despised the whole idea. I don't know if I'm ready for such a commitment. Damon we have no means. Look at our living situation. Do you think two people like us should marry? We are a part of the bohemian lifestyle and while love prospers and blossoms, marriage is not something too widespread, precisely because of our reasons,"

"What would change? Think about it. We would simply be married. It would not affect our daily existence in any manner,"

"What if I don't want that? I never imagined this. I never thought I'd be married as well, but when I did imagine it, fantasize about it, I created an entirely different image, one where I would live in a house and we would spend each day together, except when we would both go to work. It sounds silly. It sounds almost too normal for me, but as much as I love you, love everything about you, it's not that,"

"I'm sorry I can't give you that,"

"That's just it! I don't even know if I want it. You must give me time to think about this and meanwhile can we pretend you didn't say anything about this," Damon's lips caressed hers and it made her feel at ease, calm and quiet within herself where just a moment before her heart had been thumping, her mind had had ideas racing and brazing about. Now it was perfect silence and as she rested against him once more, feeling him caress her side Elena knew there was something she loved about all of this, even more than her childhood fantasy. They soon went to sleep, lulled by the quiet voices of birds and the swoop of the spring wind.

Elena awoke suddenly amidst the bright bluish hue of the moonlight creeping in. Her heart was beating fast as she put her hand above it and felt the rapid strokes. Damon lay calmly beside her, unaware of her troubles in his soft and dreamy sleep. Elena nudged him and kept doing so until he finally opened his eyes, rather sleepily. He raised himself up on his side and looked at her miserably, still wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Damon, I want to marry you," Immediately Damon was alert as he sat up and looked at her dazed and confused, "I was so wrong to rant about all my past dreams because they are not what I really want now. Since I've met you, I have not dreamt of anything but you and we really are so lovely together so why should a marriage be so different. We would still be ourselves; the two strange artistic birds that we have always been. Also since I met you I've become livelier. I suppose I've discovered some purpose and I intend to stick with it, so I need you anyway," Damon smiled and pulled Elena close to him.

"I am at a loss for words and yet I can always say something which I truly mean, more than anything else, I love you," He swept the hair away from her porcelain face and placed a kiss upon her lips, soft and caring and wonderfully loving, so much so that Elena really knew she had made the right decision.

Neither of them could sleep after this, so even though Elena had a shift the next day they went out for a moonlit walk, amongst the silence of the streets, the low swaying of the Seine and then the quiet chatter of the early morning birds in an abandoned café, where they held hands, just like an overtly romantic couple should and stared lovingly into each other's eyes over a cup of tea. Once they returned home, Elena was fast asleep and when she woke up, Damon was still beside her; embracing her from the back, his hands tightly around her waist, emitting warmth and love, which were the only things she needed in this world. And somewhere in the background, perhaps a far distance away, someone was playing Billie Holliday's _'Who loves you' _.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Notes_**_Hello, darlings! So somehow it has come about that the next chapter will be the last. The story is on such a wonderful high now, that I am fearful of either making it too passive or becoming too destructive, so as I have the perfect ending in mind, I hope you will bear with me. Anyway, I hope you found this chapter delightful and please be lovely and review! Yours excitedly, Martina._


	7. Last conclusions

_**Last conclusions.**_

Shredded rays of lemon sunlight lay in chaos and yet so meticulously upon Elena's white sheets. She awoke feverishly and in somewhat of a daze. She still felt uneasy from her dream. A dream which could not be further from the reality of that moment, as Damon lay by her side, his hand on her bare thigh and his eyes innocently closed in a childish sleep. The dream had robbed her of him, but now it was all well and good again. Elena dressed hurriedly and absentmindedly throwing on her dress and trench and was out the door and in the sunny streets in a mere moment. The honey gold sunshine woke her pleasantly as with light and carefree steps she strolled down the street amongst the bustle of Paris in the morning. People walked past her drinking coffee, reading newspapers or looking at their tired watches, but she remained bird-like. Graceful and smiling she travelled down the lane with the greatest of ease. Soon she had procured toast, juice and croissants and rushed off to the awaking Damon, who now truly held her heart.

As she walked in with breakfast and carefully placed everything on the small table, Damon opened his eyes. He saw the vision before him, encircled in pure morning sunlight, and smiled. Elena attended to him immediately – she sat down upon the bed and caressed his cheek, leaning in to give him a kiss. His grip held her before him as he admired her beauty which seemed to require so little or no effort at all. They stared for a moment into each other's eyes and felt light and comfortable, knowing that the pair of them were alone.

"What should we do about our wedding?" Damon raised his eyebrow inquisitively and put on his smuggest smile as a shade over his insecurity.

"Let's not talk too much about it. If it becomes something too talked about, it will never be good,"

"What do you mean?"

Elena sighed, but still kept her early morning smile and cheerfulness;

"You know how it is, that when you talk about something too much, your expectations are raised to such lengths that the actual event loses its significance and I don't want that to happen, because even though it is just for us, it still has to be an adventure. A memory you want to relive,"

Damon smiled and kissed the soft skin of her hand with his lips.

"We'll be impulsive, just as we have always been and when the time is right, we'll let it happen,"

"Precisely," Elena nodded and then went off to arrange their breakfast upon the worn and soft carpet, that now had become their very relative dining room and yet served its purpose as such that they could not ask for more. Elena wished her room would have blooming old pink roses in a vase by the books and furniture with detailing which resembled that of old eighteenth century objects, but her small bohemian lair had its charm; the smell of old books and wood, the constant aromas of tea, the cheerful dots, which were an unexpected surprise even to her. Elena pensively looked about her with the purpose of trying to imagine spending the rest of her life there, married to Damon, sharing these two little studios. A sense of melancholic depression overtook her, because despite her admiration for them, they seemed like a prison, which was designated to hold the two of them forever, not permitting them to escape on wild and mysterious adventures to anywhere outside of Paris. The thought of constantly struggling and having not delighted in life's pleasures as one should always took a toll on Elena's mind and soon it was all she could think about and as Damon saw her smile slowly disappear before him, he was inclined to ask her to express her thoughts.

"Are you feeling well?"

The response hung in the air. Elena couldn't breathe. It seemed to smother her. Her own life seemed a burden. Her eyes filled with unexpected and silly tears as she looked miserably at Damon and then ran out of her apartment and soon out onto the street, where she let the air fill her lungs. On the street amongst the strolling personages she felt hopeful, because she knew that most of them were probably going somewhere. They had the ability, the possibility, the opportunity, while she felt lost and doomed. Elena sat down on the curb of the relatively busy street and held her head in her hands, running her fingers through her hair. Soon after, she felt a touch upon her shoulder, as Damon joined her.

"Will you tell me what all this is about? Is it our engagement?"

"Damon, I don't want my life. I know that after all these years I should have come to accept my situation, but I haven't. I've always been a dreamer and my dreams are killing me. If I were to not have any ideas about what my future should be like, I would probably be more content, but now it seems like I have nothing to look forward to. Shall I be a satisfactory nurse with a one room apartment and a husband who is just as peculiar as me for the rest of my unfulfilled life?"

"You are thinking too much. If you were to take each moment as it comes and not fast forward to the terrifying future you'd live differently, see moments differently. You have a lot to learn from me, love,"

"It's not about you. It's not even about me. It's about the world being fairer to some people more than others," Elena sighed and tried to delight in the blossoming rosy cherries and the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from the café, but it just wasn't the same as the morning she had first stepped foot in, "I think that I have successfully ruined my very own mood for today,"

Damon caressed her vulnerable cheek, which was graced by a single bluish grey tear running along it and kissed her blossoming lips. He took her under his wing and they sat there awhile, undisturbed by the peculiar glances of passers-by in their own created imagination as Damon knew what Elena felt, but he could not admit to her aloud that he had nothing to offer her, at such a devastating crisis in her heart as this. They spent no more than an hour sitting in each other's warming embrace and then Damon led Elena inside, quietly and cautiously, but somehow with Elena's venting she had released a suppressed problem and now felt more at ease.

* * *

><p>In the pale light of the evening sky as the amber and charcoal became united, there stood Damon and Elena underneath a flaming cherry. They were about to part. Damon had arranged to meet a friend, an art dealer, and Elena desired an evening to herself. They stood there, humiliated by their incapability to say goodbye and yet felt an inkling of joy that the other felt the same. Suddenly, Damon pulled her close, by her waist, pressing into him and kissed her, almost sensing that this could be a last kiss, for the passion and desire seemed beyond bounds, and yet in a minute he let her go and with his hand caressed her face, staring into the abyss of the onyx eyes.<p>

"You'll be fine, won't you?"

"How could I not be?" Elena grew nervous of his inability to release her even for a moment and yet hid this arising worry as best as she could, as good as she had learnt to do. They parted holding their hands even at the last breath, their fingers leaving that sensuous touch upon the others as only happens when one is in love. Elena started for the café by their building. The strain of this relationship and how to not lose their current fluttering happiness had made her tired, even weak and all she wanted was to sit down in quiet and read her books and drink coffee from the small white cups of any given café. When she closed the door behind her, it started to rain outside, the small streams flowing against the windows, making her ponder if their relationship was all sunshine or if it resembled these fast flowing brooks of grey water; so beautiful in their simplicity and yet as they grow stronger and beat more loudly against the window, one no longer has a desire to appreciate them. Everything seemed difficult.

It had all been a game from the very start; he had painted her, she missed this for those were the most intimate and sensual moments they had had together, then he had tried to change her, where she had known that her character was unique and although he had implemented some change it was very relative in terms of what he actually did for her. Most of the time he had just insulted her, when she had already felt miserable. And now everything had truly spun out of control as they had decided to marry. How could she know it would stick, if everything else around him corrodes and destructs? What would their wedding be like, if at one point the minister would notice that he doesn't even know her name? Questions filled her head and when at one point Elena woke up from her imaginative sleep and noticed she had read forty pages of '_Anna Karenina_' and had no clue of what words and ideals had been expressed she felt weary and decided to go home and rest.

The sounds of dripping water filled her small studio. Elena turned on the small lamp by the bedside and lit a few vanilla coloured candles. The room smelt of spring rain and the hyacinth was in full bloom with alice blue blossoms. Elena inhaled the pleasant aroma and dropped down on her bed, looking hopefully out of the window. Her body sunk into the pleasant cottony and cushiony starch white duvet and she felt her eyes close in deep sleep. When Elena awoke at five the next morning, she lay under the blankets, her head upon the pillow and immediately she knew. Damon had been there.

Getting up so early and bright had never been easier and she prepared a cup of tea and ate some leftover pastries whilst reading her Russian romance. The air seemed clear and fresh and excited her with the promise of a beautiful day. Just at half past five, Damon gently knocked on her door and peeked inside cautiously. Seeing she was awake and lying in bed with cup and book, her back pressed against the windowsill, he knew he loved her, for no one would look so charming in so simple a circumstances. Damon approached her and reached out his hand;

"Come. Let's go. I want to paint you. It'll be done after this. I want this morning to be the last time we work on our masterpiece. You will see why,"

Elena blindly followed Damon, knowing he has a reason, for Damon always has something behind everything he does. They entered his room, where amongst the lightly flickering candles and open window, where the wind blew the curtains away, upon the horizon there lay the most beautiful sunrise she had ever seen. Colours melding in perfect shape and form. Bright lemon, maize, gold, saffron and a light touch of apricot made Elena's heart race. She already had the gown on and as she took her place and arranged the pose, she knew that Damon was past the games. It had been only his art he had thought about at first, discarding her as another girl, with not much to offer, but the gaze his eyes laid upon her had turned so dramatically, that there was no question as to what he felt. It was her eyes that had the natural ability to remain in secrecy, hide all that mattered, where his could not conceal even the slightest flicker of emotion. As the sun rose slowly and patiently, so Damon could finish his work, Elena felt herself blush before him, as she never had, because the way he looked at her made her feel so beautiful and unique that she knew that no other man could do that for her.

When it was just about time for her to leave for work, Damon put down his tools carefully and then went over to her, taking her delicate hands in his, paint-stained ones.

"It's done, as much as it ever will be. I want you to see it. Come," Elena went over to the easel and looked intently at the painting before her. He had captured something; life, personality, beauty inside the painting, where the pastel colours melded with the rich tones of royal blue and the rich, dark chocolate of her hair. What made Elena most impressed, to the extent where she caught her breath were her eyes. In the blackness of the two onyxes something shone through. It was a glimmer of brightness, but it expressed a certain feeling. A feeling of true joy, love, purity. It seemed so perfect and so impossible for Damon to have placed emotion in her in such a way, even the lightly rosy cheeks were slightly prominent and expressed the coyness she had felt from the first time there to now, this very moment. The painting was a progression. It was time. The time for a person to fall in love. It was depicted before her. Her own journey. The slight smile made her remember the nervous smile of weeks ago and yet the very same smile only lightly adjusted was her now, falling for the man before her.

"It's what it had to be," Elena concluded, placing her hand inches away from the painting itself and stroking the light colours in the air.

"I know. I'm glad it turned out so well. I hope the friend I told you about will still like it,"

"He should. There is something very special about this painting. We might never know what,"

Damon placed his hands around Elena's waist and pulled her close to him, her back pressing against the warmth of his chest. They regarded the now jasmine coloured sun, which spread over the sky as a sheet of warmth. Damon placed a gentle kiss upon her cheek and then let her go reluctantly to her own room, to change for work. As Elena changed she could not forget the painting as it resided in her mind and she had to repress it to act civil for work, not have her head in the clouds once more. And so they spent their day apart, and yet in thought it was spent entirely together, because despite her best efforts Elena thought about Damon, the painting and their future; as promising or gloomy as it could be.

* * *

><p>The knock was persistent this time and Elena answered in fright, because she had never seen Damon as excited. She had just put on a slip and was ready to climb into bed, despite it being early morning, for she had had to work the night shift at the hospital.<p>

"I have no money," Elena regarded him queerly.

"I supposed that you thought I already knew that. Our lack of prospects has always been a debate and discussion, or not in some cases,"

"I mean I have no money anymore. Everything I had, I just gathered together. We are going somewhere. Granted, it's not a luxurious or glamorous trip or adventure to Italy, but it is a short time in the country. It was the best I could do with my means," Elena's smile turned as bright and wide as it could as she embraced him truly and loyally with true ecstasy and enthusiasm.

"It's just what I wanted. Italy holds no interest for me, when I can have you in complete solitude," Their lips met and Elena could not express her gratitude or suppress her guilt, which she felt as he had spent all he had on her. Damon didn't let her go. He would have given his very last cent to give her what she wanted and seeing her so excited made him feel good.

The four days they had in the country proved to be something of a memory. They delighted in the cool breeze and warm afternoons of the last days of May. The pair had picnics amongst the red plush buttons which in truth were poppies. They lay in the grass, Damon painted, Elena read and wrote and just for a moment they had escaped their lives. They had escaped Paris; a place they both adored and yet it seemed to have lost its flair and calm. It was pleasant to not think about anything. The place they stayed granted was not of the highest standards, but they were barely there as both morning and night they were outside, promenading amongst the vine yards, the pleasant, quiet darkness and delighting in their solitude and love, if the word still represents the same as it did, when they first thought it.

On the last night there, they had a conversation which went something like this;

"Once we return to Paris, I'll find a job,"

"What do you mean?" Elena looked at him inquiringly.

"Something simple, but something that pays. I'll paint on the side. I don't want to take advantage of you, now that I have spent the last of my money," Damon glanced at her decidedly, "Also I think we should do something about our living situation. We have two perfectly good rooms, but they are not well utilised. We should have a proper kitchen, as much as we can and a well arranged living room and bedroom. Although the bed should still remain by the window as in your place," Elena smiled.

"We could do all that, but we haven't the funds,"

"We'll find them. Save money for a while. It shouldn't be that complicated. I don't want to lose you, because you don't like our life. It should be a pleasant and comfortable manner of living,"

"Thank you, for listening to me," Elena blushed slightly in the darkness. Then turned on her back and as they both stared at the ceiling, Damon held her hand in his, squeezing it lightly at times.

* * *

><p>Damon worked in a restaurant. He was on the left bank, so he was far from home. He didn't mind, because he had always preferred the left bank to the right, although the right had more promise and hope, but the left the flair of artistic spirit. It had been a little while, since their escapades in the country and he still felt the exhilarating feeling in his stomach, when he thought of it. He didn't regret it at all. Thankfully, he was sure that Elena didn't as well.<p>

It was his custom to sometimes walk all the way to Montmartre, but mostly he took the metro. It was past seven one evening, when he, new colours in hand, arrived at the station. It was bustling with people as they chatted loudly about school, colleagues, lovers or former lovers. He stared off into the distance, feeling incredibly lost amongst this crowd of people, which seemed to have nothing in common with him. He looked around him and surveyed the women there; none held no attraction, where he knew that were it a month or two ago he would have found them appealing. In fact since he had fallen for Elena, he had not seen one woman he liked other than her, which for his previous character seemed rather queer and bizarre. And then at that moment, he felt he had ruined everything as he cursed himself for bringing his mind's attention to this peculiarity. There amongst the bustling groups he saw one girl; she had on a light blue dress, with a simplistic but charming pattern of golden flowers, hair of dark black chocolate and beautiful amber skin. He barely saw her through the flurry of persons, but he knew she attracted him. It was something if not chemically mysterious than perhaps love at first sight. Damon damned the notion he'd placed into his head, but he knew that he had to at least see her closer, feel her presence. And so cautiously he approached her, seeing she was oblivious to his presence.

As he came up to her, it was as if she felt him and turned around. Elena stood before him; frightened, particularly nervous observing his confused and mesmerized expression. Damon grabbed her in his arms and kissed her with such lust and desire; their lips caressed in such fury, Damon's grip on her waist tightened, the fabric clenched in his hand, his hand caressing her hair, feeling every strand, every curl. Damon wondered whether he had known from far away it had been her and his mind had just tried to prove to him that she really was the one, that he was incapable of finding any other woman attractive, but the truth of the moment was he didn't care. He was just glad that she was there and that he could feel her presence by him.

"Elena, you know I love you, don't you?" The metro passed them by, leaving the stop empty, but the two of them. Elena stood stunned, while he still caressed her cheek. It was minutes before she spoke and even then unsurely.

"You know?"

"I do. I've known since we met. Katherine told me. How could I not? Did you really think I would be capable of such ignorance?"

"Then why didn't you ever tell me? Call me by my name?"

"It seemed easier without it. But I want to marry you, so I can't keep my secret much longer,"

Elena still felt unable to speak and terribly confused as to what it all meant.

"Is this one of your games?"

"No games. I don't want to play with you. I want what we have. Honesty, beauty, love. It works,"

Through all the bewilderment, they got on the next metro and headed home and whilst they were passing the many stops of Paris, Elena let out a real smile which meant more than words can express.

**Epilogue.**

They sat upon the bank. It was mid June and the sky was lilac and blue. The pleasant darkness, before dark, with a hint of gold in the distance, where the sun had just set. The bank was empty, except for a strolling couple somewhere far off into the distance. Elena wore a white, short dress, which beautifully accentuated her breasts with a sweetheart neckline. Damon looked as usual. Handsome. They had a bottle of champagne beside them. Two glasses into which the champagne had been evenly poured, but now had been drunk and the liquid distinct in each glass. Elena's head and soft chocolate curls rested upon Damon's shoulder, her hand placed around him in a manner of intimacy. Their marriage had been simple, just as they had imagined. It had been impulsive, just as they had imagined. Everything had been wonderful and it was the promise for the start of something equally so.

"What do you like most about our relationship so far? What we've experienced along the way,"

"I suppose the feelings, more than the events. I remember us cooking dinner and how for the first time I felt I was in a true home, not a simulation of one. I remember the first time you came over for me to paint you and I saw it in you. What I see now. Only I didn't believe it, but now remembering makes it seem so surreal,"

"Do you think we can call it love or is it beyond that?"

"I despise love. If there were other words I could express my affection for you in, I would, but there are not, so I must tell you I love you, to show the greatest of all capable feelings," Elena sighed in agreement.

As it grew dark the first lanterns turned on, all in one. In the distance an accordion played the lovely melody of _'In the still of the night'_ by Five Satins and as Damon and Elena slowly danced for the first time as a married couple they delighted in every minute of it. It seemed beyond perfect. They had had a romance worthy of books and films, and songs and they were proud of it. Especially as the product of it, their very own chef-d'œuvre hung in a gallery, where everyone could see their beautiful creation.

The stars were out. They were still upon the bank, lying side by side, upon the grey stone, it pressing into their backs, reminding them of the exclusive place they were, which so meticulously represented their spirit. As they gazed absentmindedly at the small clusters of stars behind great clouds, lying in each other's arms, light rain began to pour and without them knowing it inspired them to greatness.


End file.
